His Death, My Rampage

The moment my brother-in-law died in my bed, everyone saw it. As atonement, my husband divorced me and married my adopted sister. My brother transferred all my shares and assets to her, turning Cora into a dazzling celebrity. They sent me to a psychiatric hospital to “protect” me from prison. When the statute of limitations passed, they came for me. My husband and brother draped a coat over my shoulders, their eyes tender. “Elara, it’s over now. I’m here.” But reporters swarmed. “Why did you seduce your brother-in-law and cause his death?” “Was forging psychiatric records to avoid jail fair to the victim?” I couldn’t hear them clearly — the electroshock treatments left a permanent ring in my ears. Only when a fan threw red paint on me did I snap back. “You ruined Cora’s life! Why don’t you just die!” I stood frozen. But they were the ones who dislocated my jaw to silence me, who fabricated evidence and tortured me for years — all to hide the truth: Cora was the real murderer. … Slowly, I raised a hand and wiped the filthy paint from my eyes. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t even look at them. I simply turned and started walking away from the crowd. “Elara?” My brother’s voice, laced with a faint, surprised edge, came from behind me. “Where are you going?” Adrian, my ex-husband, quickly moved to block my path, his brow furrowed. “Elara, we’re taking you home. Stop making a scene.” I stopped and finally met their eyes. “Home?” “What home? Marcus,” I said, looking at my brother, “didn’t you sign over all my assets and company shares to Cora? What home do I have left?” My brother’s face went rigid. I looked at Adrian, who was still gripping my arm, and a small, cold smile touched my lips. “Oh, I almost forgot. Congratulations to you and Cora. I hope you’ll be very happy together.” “And next time you get married, there’s no need to be so secretive. You two were sneaking around right under my nose for years. A little wedding shouldn’t be a cause for shame.” “Elara!” Adrian’s face darkened. “Do you have to talk like that?” My brother, Marcus, was furious. He reached for me. “What is that supposed to mean? After everything we’ve done for you, this is how you repay us?” In the chaos, the fan who’d thrown the paint lunged at me again, her face twisted with hate. “You bitch! How dare you talk to Cora’s brother and husband like that! I’ll kill you!” This time, Adrian and Marcus actually intervened, holding her back. Adrian looked at me, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “Elara, look what you’ve done. Must you escalate everything? Can’t you just speak to us properly?” Speak properly? The absurdity of it was almost laughable. “I’m escalating things?” “What did I do wrong? She’s the murderer! You took her side, threw me into that asylum, and ruined my life without a second thought! And now you expect me to be grateful to my own executioners?” “Shut up!” Marcus snarled. “What murderer? Cora is the kindest person I know. Stop slandering her! You were jealous of her, jealous that Leo loved her, and you couldn’t stand it.” “We sent you for treatment, not to prison. That was our mercy. Don’t be so ungrateful!” Adrian sighed again. “Elara, calm down. I know you’re hurt. But marrying Cora… it was a temporary measure.” “She fell into a severe depression after Leo’s death. I’m staying by her side to take care of her, to atone for your sin on your behalf!” “Once she’s fully recovered, I’ll divorce her and we’ll get back together. We’ll never be apart again!” Smack. I summoned every last bit of my strength and slapped him across the face. His head snapped to the side, the red imprint of my hand already blooming on his cheek. He was stunned, clearly having never imagined I would strike him. Marcus was just as shocked. “Elara, are you insane?!” My voice trembled. “Start over?” “Adrian, you make me sick.” “Go live your life with your precious Cora. You two deserve each other. A scumbag and a snake, a match made in heaven. Count me out.” My brother’s face was purple with rage. He pointed a finger at me. “Elara, I’m giving you one last chance. Get on your knees right now and apologize to Adrian and Cora! If you don’t, you are no longer my sister! We’ll see how you survive in this city then!” Just then, a sleek, black town car pulled up. The door opened, and Cora, assisted by her publicist, stepped out gracefully. “Marcus, Adrian, don’t talk to my sister like that.” The moment they saw her, their anger melted away. They rushed to her side. “Cora, what are you doing out of the car? It’s chaos here, go back inside!” Marcus urged. “He’s right, Cora, you’re not well. You shouldn’t be here,” Adrian added, wrapping a protective arm around her. The way they coddled her, so gentle and careful, was a knife in my eye. There was a time they had treated me like that, like something precious. When a senior had cornered me in high school, Marcus had swung his backpack and taken on all three of them, getting his face bruised and bloodied but still managing a goofy grin. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll protect you.” Adrian had quietly handled the fallout, using his family’s influence to ruin the boy’s father and force them to move away. He’d been whipped for it, the scars still on his back, but he never said a word to me. The clearer the memories, the more grotesque the present seemed. Seeing that no one was paying attention to me, the fans rushed forward again, grabbing my hair and slamming me to the ground. “Tear up that pretty face of hers!” “Murderer! I’m doing society a favor!” Five years had taught me how to take a beating. I curled into a ball, protecting my head and my heart. Through the blurry, shaking world, I saw Adrian whispering something to Cora, the line of his jaw softer than I had ever seen it. Marcus just glanced in my direction with a look of pure disgust. Cora, as if just noticing the assault, cried out, “Stop!” She pushed through the fans and reached down for me. “Sister, are you alright?” But as she tried to pull me up, her nails dug cruelly into a wound on my arm. I let out a muffled groan of pain. She snatched her hand back as if burned, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sister! I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to help you.” My brother strode over and kicked me hard in the ribs. I rolled across the pavement, my vision going black at the edges. “When are you going to stop hurting Cora?!” he roared. He knelt, yanking my head back by my hair. “Stop pretending! Cora barely touched you and you act like you’re dying. Are you trying to pull the same stunt you did when you took credit for her saving me? Using your pathetic tricks to frame her and ruin her career?” “I’m telling you, Elara, Cora has a good heart and she might worry about your lies, but I don’t! If you ever try to pull your disgusting tricks on her again, I’ll make sure you rot in that asylum for the rest of your life! Do you understand me?!” “That’s enough!” Adrian’s voice cut through the air. He grabbed Marcus’s wrist. “She’s still your sister.” “Sister? She doesn’t deserve the title!” Marcus ripped his arm away. “The moment she stole my supplies and left me for dead in that ravine to save herself, I only had one sister. And her name is Cora.” Adrian looked from my enraged brother to my crumpled form on the ground and let out a long sigh. He took off his own suit jacket and stiffly draped it over me. Then he turned and walked back to Cora. “I’m taking Cora to the hospital for a check-up. She got a scare, she’s been pale ever since.” Cora immediately leaned into him, her voice weak. “Adrian, my stomach hurts.” “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there right now.” He scooped her up into his arms. He didn’t look back at me once. Marcus shot me one last look of disgust and snapped at the remaining security guards, “Clean this up. And don’t let any of this trash near Cora’s car again.” Then he hurried after Adrian. “See? Nobody wants you,” the lead fan sneered, squatting down to pat my swollen cheek. “Weren’t you so tough a minute ago? Go on, kill me, murderer!” Another girl knelt and ripped the jacket off me. “You think you deserve to wear something this nice?” “Strip her! The bitch doesn’t deserve clothes!” someone shrieked, and the others cheered. My body screamed in protest as I tried to move, but I was helpless. I could only watch as their hands tore at my already tattered hospital gown. I tried to fight back, my voice a weak, hoarse whisper. A sharp slap across the face silenced me. “Cora is kind,” the fan hissed, grabbing my chin. “But we’re not.” They dragged me into a more secluded alleyway. One of them pulled a tube of super glue from her purse. “Since she likes to seduce men so much, let’s make sure that mouth of hers never opens again. And those pretty eyes, too.” I struggled, but it only earned me more blows. One of the bodyguards, watching from a distance, finally pulled out his phone. “Mr. Evans? Miss Elara is… being targeted by Miss Cora’s fans. What are your instructions?” “Do I have to be bothered with every little thing?” Marcus’s impatient voice came through the phone. “I told you to keep the trash away from the car. The rest is not my concern.” Then, Adrian’s tense voice cut in. “Stop wasting time with irrelevant people. Cora’s heart rate is elevated, go find a doctor.” There was a rustle, then Adrian’s voice, cold and clear. “Keep an eye on the scene. Don’t let it get out of hand, and make sure no one gets any footage that could hurt Cora. As for the rest… just make sure she doesn’t die.” The line went dead. The fans burst out laughing. “Did you hear that? ‘Just make sure she doesn’t die!’” “What are we waiting for, girls? We’ve got a green light from the big boss!” The crowd eventually dispersed. No one called an ambulance. No one helped me up. I was left there like a piece of trash. I pushed myself up from the pavement, gritting my teeth against the pain. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to a number I knew by heart. [I’m in. Name your price. I just want them dead.] I waited, my heart pounding. The owner of this number had first contacted me during my fourth year in the asylum. I had been too afraid to accept then, too afraid to gamble on a stranger. I had promised my parents I would survive. Then, a photo came through. It was a picture of me, unconscious, while Cora and the others arranged Leo’s body next to mine. [The evidence is ready. See you on the red carpet. 8 p.m. tonight.] A sense of calm settled over me. I wanted to tell my parents the good news. After all, I was the last thing they worried about before they died. I had just managed to stand when two iron grips clamped down on my arms. It was Marcus’s bodyguards. They dragged me back to his villa and forced me to my knees on the cold, rough stone patio. “Miss,” one of them said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Mr. Evans says Miss Cora’s pregnancy is unstable. He requires you to kneel here and pray for her. This is your punishment.” “Unstable pregnancy? What does that have to do with me?” The ropes they used to bind me only tightened as I struggled. The night grew colder. My knees went from screaming in pain to a dull, throbbing numbness. Just before dawn, Adrian and Marcus returned. “Adrian, what are you waiting for?” Marcus’s voice was a low growl. “We can use Elara as a stand-in for Cora tonight, make her kneel for Leo’s mother. But what about after that? The woman is a lunatic! We can just hand Elara over. They look so much alike, and the old hag is crazy enough not to notice the difference.” Adrian yanked at his tie, his voice tight with frustration. “Enough. I’ll handle it. If necessary…” He didn’t finish, but I had already taken a step back, a twig snapping under my foot. “Who’s there?” Marcus spun around. Our eyes met. The air was dead silent. I tried to run, but my bound hands and numb legs sent me stumbling. Adrian was on me in a second, his hand clamping down on my shoulder. “Since you heard, we have no choice. Cora’s red carpet event tonight is too important. There can be no mistakes. So, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to take one for the team.” He dislocated my jaw with a practiced, casual movement. “You should be used to a little humiliation by now. I promise, after this is over, I’ll divorce Cora and be with you.” He waved a hand, and two bodyguards dragged me to a car. At the Croft mansion, Leo’s mother sat on the sofa, cradling a portrait of her son, humming a soft, broken lullaby. The television was playing a live feed of Cora, arm-in-arm with Adrian, dazzling on the red carpet. Mrs. Croft’s humming stopped. Her eyes fixed on the screen. A guttural scream ripped from her throat. “Why? Why does the person who killed you get to smile like that, while my son lies in the cold, hard ground?” One of the bodyguards shoved me forward. Mrs. Croft’s head snapped towards me. She lunged, her hands like talons at my throat. “You! You killed my son!” She snatched a fruit knife from the table and aimed it straight at my heart. “Die! All of you, just die!”