No Dawn at the End of the Dawnlight

When Hank was diagnosed with ALS, our family empire fell. I left college, shouldering his life and crushing debt. For five years, I bled for him. Beaten by debt collectors, I bought no painkillers. Collapsing between five jobs, I took no breaks. Every cent kept Hank alive. Tonight, serving drinks at a lounge, I saw him—not in a wheelchair at home, but laughing in a tailored suit. “Hank,” a friend said, swirling his drink, “you’ve played sick for five years. Stella’s worked herself raw for your ‘treatment.’ Isn’t that enough?” Hank scoffed. “Almost. If she hadn’t made Ivy cry with one selfish remark, I wouldn’t have faked bankruptcy and this illness to teach her.” He sipped his whiskey, looking perfectly healthy. “Ivy’s been abroad and is finally ready to forgive. I’ll stage a recovery, and Stella can return as our princess—her atonement.” “But ALS is terminal,” his friend objected. “Will she believe a recovery?” Hank laughed. “That naive girl believes every word I say. She’ll learn Ivy, as our adopted sister, needed kindness. I did this for her own good. I’ll make it up to her later.” I lowered my head, tears falling silently. But Hank, there is no “later” for us. Your illness was a lie. Mine is real.

1 A phantom wind sliced through the corridor, chilling me to the bone. I stood frozen, a puppet with its strings cut, enduring the slow, agonizing collapse of the world I had built for the last five years. It was a death by a thousand cuts, each slice carving away the faith that had been my only anchor. Hank’s friend, Ryan, sighed. “I gotta say, man, you’re ruthless. That’s your own sister. The genius from Westwood University. She threw it all away for you without a second thought. She’s barely in her twenties and she looks like she’s aged a decade. A few days ago, she was short three hundred bucks for your medicine. She even came to me for it.” Hank’s face instantly darkened. “Did you give it to her?” Ryan shook his head, looking weary. “You gave us all a direct order. You think I’d dare?” He paused, then added, “The poor kid knelt on my doorstep for a whole afternoon. She passed out from low blood sugar, but I couldn’t even take her to a hospital. When she came to, she just… picked herself up and walked away.” What Ryan didn’t say was that I had been truly desperate that day. I had offered him the only thing I had left to sell. I would have done anything for that money. Hank had been without his imported medication for a week, and I was terrified he would get worse. But Ryan had looked at me like he’d seen a ghost and practically threw me out of his house. Now I knew why. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help me. He wasn’t allowed to. Hank let out a cold snort. “All of you, listen up. Until I bring Ivy home, nobody helps Stella. I don’t care if she’s kneeling, begging, or dying at your feet—you ignore her. Ivy is sensitive, she has depression. I’ve spent five years carefully managing her recovery while she traveled. If Stella’s punishment is cut short by even a single day, Ivy might get upset and have a relapse. And if any of you make my precious baby sister unhappy, I’ll make your entire family miserable.” The men exchanged uneasy glances, the absurdity of the situation hanging heavy in the air. Someone awkwardly cleared their throat. “Hank, aren’t you afraid that if Stella finds out the truth, she’ll… leave you?” At that, Hank burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me? We’re family. This is just a little spat, a domestic issue. Stella would die for me. You could put a knife to her throat and she wouldn’t leave my side. This is just a small lesson. Ivy, on the other hand, is different. She already feels like an outsider because she isn’t related to us by blood. It’s my duty to treat her better.” He fixed them all with a hard stare. “But remember this. What was said in this room tonight, stays in this room. If a single word gets back to Stella, our friendship is over.” I leaned against the wall, my limbs numb. So my five years of hell… they were nothing more than a joke. My life, my freedom, even my health… all of it was meaningless, easily discarded the moment Ivy shed a single tear. I wanted to laugh, but the only thing that came out was a stream of unstoppable tears. A phone rang inside the room, and footsteps headed for the door. I tried to scramble away but turned right into the path of the approaching manager. A tray of vintage champagne, worth tens of thousands, crashed to the floor. The manager’s face turned thunderous. With a vicious slap, she sent me sprawling to the ground. Just then, the door opened. Hank strode out, his eyes sweeping past us without a second glance as he opened his arms to a woman who fluttered toward him like a butterfly. It was Ivy. “Why did you come back on your own?” he cooed, wrapping her in a protective embrace. “I told you I’d come pick you up. Are you tired? I’ve arranged for a full spa team at home. They’ll take care of you.” Ivy giggled, her voice sickly sweet. “I missed you, Hank! I wanted to surprise you!” I was still on my knees less than a yard away from them, wearing a cheap mask, too terrified to move or speak. The dazzling diamonds on Ivy’s heels blinded me, each brilliant stone a sharp stab in my heart. A single one of those gems could have paid for a year of Hank’s “medicine.” The manager stammered, interrupting their reunion. “Mr. Vance, my deepest apologies. Your champagne… this clumsy idiot ruined it.”

2 A pair of polished black leather shoes stopped right in front of me. The manager, recognizing his status, was desperate to appease him. “Mr. Vance, I’m so sorry this idiot disturbed your reunion with your sister. She can’t even hold a tray steady. I’ll have someone bring you a new selection right away.” She grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh with a sharp, twisting motion. The pain was nothing compared to the agony of a broken rib from a debt collector’s boot, but I flinched anyway, my insides coiling into a tight knot of shame. Hank frowned, his voice sharp with impatience. “That’s enough.” The manager pointed a trembling finger at me. “Since you’re the one who broke them, you’ll pick up every last shard of glass from this hallway with your bare hands. If my sister steps on a single piece, you’ll swallow one.” The hallway was carpeted with a thick, plush runner that muffled all sound. The tiny, sharp fragments of glass were embedded deep within the fibers, nearly invisible. I got onto my hands and knees and began to feel my way through the carpet, my palms pressing down, searching for the sharp edges. Ivy watched me for a moment, her eyes narrowed, before turning to Hank and pouting. “Hank, I’m tired.” “My little princess,” he murmured. “Let’s get you out of here. It’s too dangerous.” The black leather shoe stepped onto the back of my hand, pressed down, and ground into my skin before moving on, its owner completely oblivious. I remained on my knees, staring at the tiny shard of glass now embedded in my palm. The tears finally stopped, replaced by a raw, broken laugh. The manager recoiled, her eyes wide with alarm. “What’s wrong with you? Your nose is bleeding!” I staggered to my feet, wiping the blood away with the back of my sleeve. “I guess… I’m just about to die.” Without a backward glance at her shocked face, I walked away, leaving a trail of blood drops on the expensive carpet. When I got back to our tiny apartment and pushed the door open, a crash echoed from the kitchen. Hank was on the floor, struggling to pull himself up from his overturned wheelchair. He saw me standing in the doorway, and his eyes reddened with shame, like a child caught doing something wrong. “Stella… I just wanted to make you something to eat…” His voice was thick and slurred. “I’m so useless, just a worthless cripple!” His words were garbled, saliva mixing with tears as they streamed down his face. He looked every bit the part of a helpless, broken man who had been paralyzed for years. A distant memory flickered in my mind. Before the ‘diagnosis,’ Hank had been a severe germaphobe. He was a man who washed his hands twenty times a day, who couldn’t tolerate a single speck of dust on his clothes. Yet, for Ivy, he had endured this filthy, undignified existence for five whole years. Five years. I had been trapped in the web of his masterful, deceitful performance, a clown in his private circus. In that moment, I wanted to rip open his chest and see what lay inside. Was it flesh and blood, or cold, hard stone? Seeing my silence, Hank’s head drooped. “Stella… are you starting to hate me?” he whispered. “You should. I’m just a burden. I can’t keep dragging you down like this. Just go. Leave me here. Let me just… rot.” He sat there amidst the mess on the floor, stubbornly gripping the armrest of his wheelchair, veins popping on his arms as he tried and failed to get up. I walked over in silence, righted the wheelchair, and helped him into it. Then I went to the bathroom, wrung out a washcloth, and came back to clean his face and hands. I had performed this routine for five years. The motions were so familiar they felt etched into my very bones. He grabbed my wrist, his eyes falling on the cut in my palm. “What happened? Who hurt you?” I stared into his eyes, at the flicker of concern that seemed so genuine it made my heart ache. A bitter taste rose in my throat. “I did. I was hurt by someone who looks a lot like you.” I held his gaze, my voice steady. “It was at the Starlight Lounge.”

3 I watched the muscles in Hank’s jaw tighten. A small, sad smile touched my lips. “But I know it wasn’t you. My brother would never lie to me. Right?” My stare made him squirm. He looked away, his voice strained. “Of course not. You’re my only family, Stella. I would never, ever lie to you.” I swallowed the suffocating grief in my throat, turning away before he could see the tears welling in my eyes. I pushed his wheelchair out of the kitchen. When I finished cooking and came out, the living room was empty. I walked to his bedroom door and heard his hushed voice on the phone. “Be good now. I’ve planned the biggest birthday party for you. I’ll be there tomorrow to celebrate with you personally.” Ivy’s voice on the other end was laced with mock concern. “But tomorrow is Stella’s birthday too. If you don’t spend it with her, won’t she be upset?” “You silly girl,” he murmured. “You’re my only precious sister. Your happiness is all that matters. Stella hasn’t celebrated her birthday in five years; she’s used to it. One more year won’t make a difference.” Ivy’s squeal of delight was sharp enough to cut through the door. “I knew you loved me best, Hank!” I stood there for a long time before quietly taking off my apron and walking out of the apartment. When Hank emerged from his room, I was gone. On the table was a bowl of soft-boiled noodles, easy for him to swallow, and one of his imported pills. He knew I had a night shift to get to. But the image of my wounded hand, my unnaturally pale face, and my painfully thin frame as I cooked for him flashed in his mind. A sudden panic seized him as he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen me smile, couldn’t recall the bright, vibrant girl I used to be. Something sharp and cold pierced his chest. A disquieting mix of unease and guilt began to creep in, silent and suffocating. He snatched his phone and quickly dialed a number. The next day, I took Hank for a check-up. His doctor was practically buzzing with excitement. “Ms. Vance, we’ve just received incredible news! A private research facility in Switzerland has developed a new experimental drug for ALS. The clinical trials have been extremely successful, and they’re only accepting two more participants. I’ve managed to secure a spot for your brother.” In contrast to his enthusiasm, I was calm. “What are the chances of a full recovery?” “Eighty percent.” Playing his part perfectly, Hank began to weep with joy. “Stella, I can get better! I can really get better! I’ll be able to stay with you forever!” I forced a smile. “If only one of us could live, Hank, I would always, always want it to be you.” He froze, taken aback by my solemn tone. The act seemed to fall away for a second. He frowned, his words sharp and clear. “Don’t say such foolish things. We’re both going to be fine. When I get better, I’ll rebuild the Vance Group, and you’ll be our family’s princess again.” But that’s a crown I no longer want. And a brother… I’m willing to give to Ivy. The doctor ushered me out of his office, claiming the preparatory tests would take a long time. In the past, I would have believed him, using every precious minute to rush off to one of my part-time jobs while Hank was being ‘treated.’ Now, I knew it was just an excuse to get me out of the way. I stood in the empty corner of the hallway and watched as Hank, no longer needing his wheelchair, changed into a fresh set of clothes and strode confidently into the elevator. Down below, a luxury car was already waiting for him. I numbly turned away and walked into a different doctor’s office down the hall. “Ms. Vance, the tumor is too large for surgery now. If you had come in even two weeks ago, there might have been a chance.” The doctor sighed, his expression grim. “You have a few days, at most. It’s time to say goodbye to your family.” I was silent for a long moment before giving a small nod. “After I die, please have me cremated. Deliver my ashes to the Vance estate and give them to the CEO of the Vance Group, Hank Vance.” I left the little money I had on his desk and walked out of the hospital. My phone buzzed with a text message. “Come to the villa. You should see this.” It was from Ivy. I took a taxi to the city’s most exclusive gated community. After five years, the home I thought had been sold off long ago was now ablaze with lights and life. A lavish party was in full swing, guests dripping with wealth, a world away from the lonely figure standing outside the ornate iron gates. Ivy, wearing a sparkling tiara and a custom-made gown, stood beside a six-tier cake, her arm linked possessively through Hank’s. She was surrounded by a mountain of presents. She closed her eyes and made a wish. “I wish I could be my brother’s only sister, and be his little princess forever.” Hank reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. The moment he opened it, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

4 It was the family crest pendant. When we were born, our parents had a master artisan craft two identical ones. They were blessed for a full year, inscribed with our names, and placed around our necks. They were our parents’ hopes and blessings, a symbol of the Vance legacy. After they died, it was the only thing I had left of them. Even in my most desperate moments, I had never considered selling it. Now, I saw that Hank had replaced my name with Ivy’s. In front of everyone, he solemnly fastened the chain around her neck. “My little princess,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “Congratulations. Your wish has come true.” I don’t know how I managed to walk away. My phone started vibrating relentlessly. A string of messages from Ivy. “I recognized you at the lounge the other day, you know.” “Did you get a good look tonight?” “The pendant is mine now. Hank is mine, too. You’re like a pathetic stray dog that nobody wants.” “You’re such a failure. Why don’t you just die, big sister? Tee-hee.” When I didn’t respond, a final message appeared. “Oh, and by the way, I had Hank send you a little birthday present. I hope you enjoy it.” I wandered the streets like a ghost for hours, finally making my way back to the cramped apartment in a daze. Only then did I discover what Ivy’s “birthday present” was. The door was wide open. The room was ransacked. And Hank was on the floor, pinned down by several large men. He was thrashing like a cornered animal, a sight so horribly familiar it made my whole body tremble. The ghost of pain from my once-broken ribs flared up again. “Well, well, look who it is,” the lead thug sneered, picking his teeth. “When are you paying this month’s debt?” My face was pale. “What are you talking about? I paid everything off.” He spat on the floor. “I say you still owe, so you still owe. Don’t wanna pay? I wonder how many hits with this pipe your brother’s brittle bones can take.” He tapped the iron pipe against Hank’s back for emphasis. “Stella, it’s my fault!” Hank cried out, his voice choked with fake despair. “Don’t worry about me! Just run! I’m just a cripple! If they kill me, they kill me! I don’t want to be a burden on you anymore!” The exact same words I had heard a hundred times over the past five years. I looked at the men, then at my brother on the floor—disheveled and pathetic, yet his eyes were sharp and clear. And I finally understood. It was laughable that I hadn’t seen it before. In all the times they had come for their money, they had never once laid a hand on him. But me? To protect my deceitful brother, I’d had my ribs broken, my leg fractured. I was covered in scars. Swallowing the painful lump in my throat, I asked in a raw voice, “What do you want?” The leader looked me up and down, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “You know, I really don’t like your stubborn attitude. So here’s the deal. We’ve got about a dozen guys here. You crawl through each of our legs and bark like a dog three times, and we’ll call it even for today. Just a bit of fun.” “NO!” Hank roared. “Stella, don’t you dare do it!” A hollow, lifeless laugh escaped my lips. The last flicker of warmth in my heart died out. “If this is what you want,” I whispered, my words meant for only one person, “then consider us even.” Though I was speaking to the thug, Hank flinched as if I’d struck him. He looked panicked, opening his mouth to say something, but then he remembered his promise to Ivy. This was the last time. The final punishment. After this, he would restore my identity as the Vance heiress. He would never let me suffer again. He clung to that thought, confident that he had a lifetime to make it up to me. He looked away, pulling out his phone to secretly take a picture of my humiliation to send to Ivy.