Chapter 1: Born in His Shadow

After failing to prove myself—after my brother snatched my SAT scores and stole my name just to get himself into Ivy Ridge University—he turned to me with that smug, punchable grin and said:

"Don’t think you’re the only one who’s gotten a second chance. You’ll never get out from under my shadow."

The words slid off his tongue like they were some kind of sick joke, each syllable pressing down on my chest until I could barely breathe. Julian’s voice always had this sharp edge—too loud, too cocky, like he was itching for me to snap back. And for a second, I almost did. God, I almost did. But I’d learned the hard way—fighting back just made him laugh harder.

In my last life, my parents tied me up in a locked room, and I watched, helpless, as my brother took everything that should’ve been mine. This time, I tore free from those ropes—ran out, desperate to fight for myself. But Julian was already ahead of me, already stealing my place at Ivy Ridge. Staring at my brother, so proud, and my parents, who never once saw the real me, I just sneered, turned my back, and reported myself for cheating on the SAT. I only had one goal now: drag you bloodsuckers—yeah, vampires, because that’s what you are, draining me dry—down with me, straight to hell.

That memory burned like whiskey going down—raw, bitter, impossible to swallow. My wrists still ached from the ropes, and the shock of betrayal hit cold every time I remembered my parents would always choose Julian. Always. But this time, I didn’t freeze. This time, I played their game, then flipped the whole damn board. Maybe hell isn’t fire and brimstone—maybe it’s the second you decide to pull everyone down with you, just so they finally notice you exist.

You ever hear the saying, if two people share the same face but not the same blood, one of them has to go?

That’s me and Julian Blackwell.

It’s the kind of line you’d hear whispered at a backyard barbecue, probably after a few too many beers. But for me and Julian, it wasn’t just a saying. It was a curse, hanging over every birthday, every Christmas photo where we stood shoulder to shoulder, grinning for the camera like we were best buds. If you looked close, you might’ve seen it in my eyes: only one of us was ever going to make it out alive.

Everyone else thinks we’re twins. But truth is, I’m not even their blood. I’m the kid they scooped up off the street because I looked just like Julian. From the second they saw me, it was like they’d already decided. We were only a year apart and looked like mirror images—unless you looked at a birth certificate or a DNA test, you’d never know we weren’t related. So at five, lost and dazed, I got a family. Back then, nobody asked too many questions about the paperwork. Mom always said it cost a lot to get the paperwork done and change my name to Blackwell. From that day on, I was Jamie Blackwell.

Funny how the universe works. One minute you’re shivering on a city sidewalk, and the next you’re sitting at some stranger’s kitchen table with a new last name and a plate of mac and cheese you didn’t even want. My first night in the Blackwell house, the AC rattled and the floor creaked with every step outside my door. I’d never had a real bed before. I thought maybe this was what home was supposed to feel like. Turns out, home is just another word for prison—if you’re not careful.

At first, I thought I’d won the lottery getting a family. Later, I found out they named me Jamie just so I’d be Julian’s shadow, stuck serving him forever. Even my education was all about him: I had to meet his every demand, get his approval for everything. And I did it. As long as I could eat and had a roof, that was enough. I’d never known what a real family was anyway. Maybe that’s why I put up with so much crap. Even when they sent me to clinics to make me look exactly like Julian, I just went along with it.

It’s wild thinking back on all those afternoons in those clinics—waiting rooms smelling like antiseptic and old magazines. I’d swing my legs, listening to Mom tell the nurse, "Just make sure he looks exactly like Julian. No one can tell the difference." And I’d just nod, because what else was I supposed to do? I was hungry. I wanted to belong. Hell, I’d have let them shave my head if it meant I’d get a slice of birthday cake at the end of the day.

But life has a way of flipping you upside down when you least expect it. After my brother stole my spot and left for college, I became him.

No big scene, no dramatic music. Julian packed up, left, and suddenly the house was quieter than ever. I thought things might change. They didn’t. If anything, the silence just made it worse. People started calling me Julian out in public, and I stopped correcting them. I became a ghost in my own life, drifting from one crap job to the next, invisible as air. Was this it? Was this all I’d ever be?

Julian never cracked a book—his SAT scores were so bad he couldn’t have gotten into a decent community college if he tried. People joked you could get a higher score just filling in bubbles at random. So after he left, I faded into the background. Maybe the universe took pity on me. Just when I thought I’d be a nobody forever, I met her. She told me I could be more, that I didn’t have to be anyone’s shadow. But by then, I was already a lost cause. Someone like me—what right did I have to that kind of kindness or beauty? So I started ducking her, keeping my distance, until she was just another memory.

I remember the first time she smiled at me—really smiled, not just to be polite. It was like sunlight sneaking through a dirty window. I wanted to reach out, to ask her how she managed to see me when everyone else looked right through me. But shame is heavy. It wraps around you, tight as a winter coat. I told myself she was better off without me. Maybe she was. Still, sometimes I can’t help but wonder what might’ve happened if I’d just had the guts to reach back.

By forty-eight, I’d busted my ass to buy Julian two condos—each one over a thousand square feet—and helped him upgrade his car three times, each worth at least thirty grand. My whole life, I lived in his shadow, giving everything I had to this family. I was worn out. No degree, no future—making that kind of money was a miracle. I don’t know why I never fought back. Maybe I just got used to being a puppet. Or maybe, from the moment Julian stole my life, I lost the nerve to resist. Either way, I was so tired—so tired that dying felt like the only way out. So, at forty-eight, I ended it. In those last moments, I thought about the one person who tried to pull me out of the dark. If I could do it over, I’d fight back—no holding back. Even if I failed, at least I’d know I tried. If I’d never seen the light, maybe I could’ve survived the darkness…

Forty-eight years gone in a blink, and what did I have to show for it? Some old receipts, a pile of broken promises, and the memory of a voice that once told me I could be more. I remember lining up the pills on the counter, the way the world started to blur as I closed my eyes. I thought of her—of the life I could’ve had if I’d just tried. And then—nothing. Just darkness.