Chapter 4: Spies and Secrets

I paused livestreaming for a few days.

My ring light collected dust in the corner, and the silence in my room felt heavy, like the whole house was holding its breath.

To keep tabs on them, I secretly installed hidden cameras in several rooms when they weren’t looking.

It felt sneaky, but after what they’d done, I needed proof—something to protect myself if things turned ugly again. I tucked a tiny cam behind the clock, another near the TV. Paranoid? Maybe. But paranoia had kept me alive this long.

One night, on my way to the bathroom, I overheard my parents talking in their room.

Their voices were muffled, but the resentment carried through the thin walls. I crept down the hallway, heart pounding, ears straining to catch every word.

“Honey, I think Marcus is starting to get suspicious. He wasn’t like this before. Whenever we said something, he’d try to prove himself, transferring money right away. Even though he mentioned livestreaming recently, he still sent us a few thousand just a few days ago.”

Mom’s voice was sharp with worry. I pictured her pacing, wringing her hands, always calculating.

“That’s all dirty money. I don’t believe he’s better than Caleb. Once Caleb graduates, he’ll be a real government worker. Even the mayor will have to shake his hand.”

Dad’s voice dripped with pride. He still clung to the idea that a government job meant power and respect—even though, these days, most grads end up sorting mail or answering phones for some underfunded office.

The mayor shaking his hand? How short-sighted. Just because there hasn’t been a college student on our street in years, they can’t see that with so many more graduates every year, it’s harder than ever to find a job. Even top school grads struggle.

I almost laughed—Dad still thought a handshake from the mayor was a golden ticket. In reality, the job market was a meat grinder, and connections counted for more than any diploma.

These days, without connections, getting ahead is like winning the lottery.

You needed a family friend in the right office, a cousin with pull. Otherwise, you just got in line with the rest and hoped for a callback.

My mom quickly agreed: "Yes, once Marcus supports Caleb through college, we’ll have him save up for a down payment for Caleb. I heard city girls want a big ring and a nice house. Best if we can buy a place outright for Caleb."

I pictured her scrolling Zillow listings, daydreaming about granite countertops and walk-in closets, all funded by my sweat.

“Exactly. Caleb is the younger brother, so as the older brother, Marcus should take care of him.”

Dad’s words landed like a punch. No matter what I did, it would never be enough unless it served Caleb’s future.

Hearing this, I felt cold all over, like I’d been dunked in ice water, the chill spreading from my heart to my whole body.

I pressed my forehead to the bathroom door, fighting back tears. I knew then, beyond any doubt, that I was just a means to an end for them.

In my last life, that’s exactly what they did. After sending me to that hellish institution, they drained my bank accounts.

They didn’t even flinch—just transferred everything out. To them, my pain was a footnote, quickly forgotten.

They bought several luxury condos downtown, paid a huge dowry, and let Caleb marry a rich, beautiful wife and live the good life.

I watched from the shadows as my brother hosted parties in penthouses I’d paid for, smiling for family photos I wasn’t invited to join.

But why couldn’t I enjoy that money, eat well, and live well?

Why did I have to live on scraps, while my brother feasted?

Why was I the one footing the bill while they lived it up, never once looking back?

I should have had a better life.

I deserved better. This time, I would fight for it.