Chapter 4: Blood Under the Maple Tree

“Isn’t this just burning through the family fortune? Shameless.”

Their voices were hushed, but the venom in their words was unmistakable. I caught myself clenching my fists under the table, but I didn’t say anything, just watched Mason not far away, toasting and drinking.

He laughed a little too loudly, his smile a little too wide. Then I finished the wine in my glass in one gulp.

That night, I dreamed of my sister again.

Her voice echoed in my dreams, calling my name. I woke up gasping, the memory sharp and fresh. This year marks the fifth year since Rachel disappeared.

The last footage of her was from a security camera.

She walked alone into the house and never came out again.

The last phone call Rachel made before she disappeared was to her boyfriend at the time, Mason Keller.

I am Rachel’s younger sister.

The family who bought me treated me terribly.

I overheard them whispering that when I got a little older, they’d marry me off to the guy next door for a dowry.

I thought my life would just pass like that.

But Rachel came.

Her delicate high heels stepped into the dirty water in the alley, and against the light, she pulled me out of that mud.

She said, “I’m your sister. I’ll take you away.”

Her voice was steady, warm, and for the first time in years, I believed in hope. Our parents died of illness, leaving a huge inheritance, the whole family business entrusted to Rachel alone.

Rachel felt sorry for my hard past and made it up to me doubly.

She spoiled me shamelessly, never letting me forget that I was loved. What she had, she gave me. What she didn’t have, she’d do anything to get, then give to me.

I didn’t have to do anything, just stand in front of her, and I’d get her open favoritism.

She’d brag about me to her friends, beam with pride at every little accomplishment. Sometimes I’d catch myself smiling at the memory, thinking, maybe I really was special. When I first went overseas, I had insomnia every night.

Rachel would call me across more than ten hours of time difference, humming lullabies gently until I fell asleep to her voice.

Her voice was soft and sweet, sometimes singing old American folk songs, sometimes just humming the melody. Later, she fell in love with Mason.

She always said Mason was the best boy in the world.

Though his family background was ordinary, he treated Rachel very well.

He’d wait outside her house all night just for a word she said in anger, would carefully make handmade gifts and cards for her on Valentine’s Day, and would stand in line for hours to buy her a Starbucks drink she mentioned in passing.

Those simple gestures moved Rachel.

She’d call me just to gush about his latest surprise, her voice full of laughter. When they got engaged, she brought a dowry of two million, gave him a house, a luxury car—all in Mason’s name as pre-marital property.

Rachel waited with her sincerest heart for the wedding three months later.

She planned every detail, down to the color of the napkins and the song for their first dance. Unfortunately, her lover didn’t want her heart.

What Mason wanted was Rachel’s life.

After Rachel disappeared, Mason made a fortune, living in her house, driving her car.

He wore her money like a badge, never once looking back. Mason only knew that Rachel had a lost younger sister, but had never met me.

So I set things up so Mason and I would "accidentally" meet at a gala.

I deliberately flaunted my wealthy background, and sure enough, Mason took the bait and pursued me even more actively.

He was like a moth to a flame, drawn by the promise of money and power. My goal was to find out the truth behind Rachel’s disappearance.

...

I was lost in thought when I suddenly received a friend request on Facebook Messenger.

The note said "Harper Sloan."

Her profile picture was a watercolor painting, soft and blurry. I arranged to meet Harper at a coffee shop.

She smiled when she saw me and handed me her tightly clenched phone.

Her hands shook as she passed it over, knuckles white. I felt a jolt of dread. There was a surveillance video on her phone.

A ten-minute video—I watched it frame by frame.

My heart pounded as the footage played, every second stretching out endlessly. I felt sick, my hands cold and slick with sweat. In the footage, Rachel was moving violently, seemingly arguing with Mason across from her.

Just as she was about to leave, Mason’s mother threw a basin of liquid in Rachel’s face.

Rachel fell to the ground in panic, clutching her eyes helplessly and curling up on the floor.

Mason’s father pinned her arms down, and Mason raised a sharp knife.

He straddled Rachel, aimed at her neck, and slashed down hard.

Once, twice, three times…

Mason slashed fifteen times in a row.

Blood and flesh flew, the ground covered in red.

By the end, Rachel’s head was attached to her neck by only a thin layer of skin.

When the last slash fell, her heavy head dropped to the ground.

The footage had no sound, but I could almost hear her screams.

I finished watching, my whole body cold, my fingers trembling uncontrollably.

I felt like I was underwater, everything muffled and far away. I asked, “Why?”

“Why did they kill her?”

Harper said, “The Keller family had their eyes on Rachel’s assets. After they moved in together, Mason poisoned Rachel’s food every day.”

Her voice was flat, almost numb, like she’d told this story too many times. “That day, Rachel discovered the poisoning.”

“When I arrived, they were dealing with the body. They wanted to kill me too, but Mason wouldn’t let them.”

“They couldn’t go against Mason, and were afraid I’d talk, so they sent me to the psychiatric hospital.”

“When you went to the Keller house that day, I thought you were the next victim they tricked, so I specially prepared that note.”

Harper spoke softly, her words trailing off, her voice drifting further away in the hazy sunlight.

A week before Rachel disappeared, she told me her stomach hurt and her hair was falling out in handfuls.