Chapter 1: Viral Beauty, Deadly Obsession

My sister got hooked on viral TikTok videos of unusually beautiful but visibly ill babies. While she was pregnant, she secretly started taking experimental supplements she found online, hoping her own child would be born “sick” and beautiful too.

The whole thing was so surreal—she’d spend hours scrolling, eyes glued to her phone. She’d sigh over those angelic faces, never even thinking about what those kids had gone through. Honestly, it creeped me out. It was like she’d fallen under some kind of spell, convinced that beauty alone could change a person’s fate.

When I found out, I barely managed to stop her in time. I told her the truth: those babies had Kabuki Syndrome—a rare condition that, yeah, made them look striking, but left them unable to care for themselves.

I remember the day I sat her down, my voice shaking with worry as I tried to break through her fantasy. I did everything—pulled up medical articles, showed her case studies. I even found a support group’s Facebook page with photos of real families. For a second, I thought maybe—just maybe—she got it.

She actually listened. She stopped the pills, and when her baby girl was born healthy, I finally let myself breathe.

There was relief in the air, like after a tornado passes and you realize your house is still standing. For a while, I thought we were safe.

My niece kept getting rejected by the guys she liked—apparently, she just looked too plain. By twenty-eight, she was still single. She blamed my sister for making her unattractive and had a huge blowout with her.

Every heartbreak chipped away at our family. It hurt to watch. My niece would come home from work, toss her purse on the table, and sob about how she’d never be enough. Every failed relationship deepened her resentment, until one night, the dam broke and years of bitterness came pouring out.

My sister started blaming me, just to keep the peace. “It’s all his fault for not letting me take those pills. Honestly, he was just jealous. He couldn’t handle the idea of you being prettier than his own kid.”

I still remember the way she said it—her voice sharp and defensive, like the truth might cut her if she held it too long. It stung, but I was used to it.

That was it. My niece snapped. She stormed over to my place, knife in hand, and stabbed me to death.

It happened so fast. One minute I was at my desk. The next, I was fighting for my life—blood everywhere, disbelief in my eyes. My daughter’s scream still haunts me.

Afterward, my sister wasted no time. She took my inheritance, fled to Canada with my niece, and got plastic surgery. New names, new faces. Eventually, she married my niece off to a wealthy family.

They moved fast—almost like they’d planned it. New faces, new passports, a new life. Meanwhile, the world just kept spinning.