I Died While They Threw Her a Party

Lillian's POV

I'm dying. My body is upstairs. My soul is down here in the living room.

On the couch, my mother Genevieve is holding Celeste tight, fingers running through her hair. "It's okay. Those men can't get you now."

My father Julian is pacing the room. He slams his fist on the table. "This is all Lillian's fault! She had to drag Celeste out, and now look what happened!"

The family doctor finishes checking Celeste's arm and stands up. "Mrs. Hart, your daughter is fine. Just shaken up."

Dad sinks into a chair. Mom kisses Celeste's forehead, tears sliding down her face.

No one looks upstairs. No one asks about me.

Howard, the old butler, is standing in the corner. He clears his throat. "Ma'am, Miss Lillian doesn't look good at all. Should we have the doctor—"

"Howard." Mom lifts her head. The gentleness is gone. "A few scratches? That's nothing."

"But her lips are turning purple—"

"Shut up!" Mom snaps. "Howard, have you lost your mind? Celeste has only been home for two years! How many times has she been hurt because of her!"

Right. Two years. That's all Celeste has been home. Me? I got twenty-four. Twenty-four years she raised me. And in the end... it feels like my soul is being torn in two.

Mom shoots to her feet, heels clicking on the floor. She's shaking with anger as she storms upstairs. Howard follows. My soul drifts up after them.

At my bedroom door, Howard reaches for the handle but Mom grabs it first. She stands in the doorway without even glancing inside.

"Lillian Hart." Her voice is ice-cold. "Get downstairs. Get on your knees. Apologize to your sister. If you can't do that, get out."

I try to say Mom, I'm dying, but nothing comes out. She's already turning away.

Howard stands in the doorway, tears running down his wrinkled face. But there's nothing he can do.

When we got free from the kidnappers, I couldn't speak or move anymore. My parents stepped right over me where I was slumped on the ground and rushed to Celeste, who was curled up in the corner.

They lifted her gently, checking every inch of her skin. I was left there like a broken piece of furniture.

In the end, it was Howard who came over, shaking, and helped me to the car to bring me home.

"Ma'am," Howard's voice is trembling, "Miss Lillian is really in bad shape. Please..."

"How much did she pay you?" Mom sneers. "What a performance. I raised her for twenty-four years, and now even you're helping her put on a show?"

"Mom." Celeste's voice is weak. "What about Lillian? Is she okay?"

Mom's tone changes instantly. "Sweetie, you're traumatized and you're still worried about her."

Then she shouts upstairs. "Lillian! Did you hear that? Your sister was terrified by kidnappers and the first thing she asks about is you! Why can't you be half as thoughtful as she is?"

Dad chimes in. "She probably wishes Celeste had died out there. Then the company would be hers forever. Does the imposter really think she's a Hart?"

"Mom, Dad, don't say that." Celeste's voice breaks. "Lillian is a victim too. It's not like she wanted to be switched at birth. She just... can't accept me joining the company. The VP position was supposed to be hers, and now I have it. Of course she's upset. It's all because I came back..."

She gets more worked up and starts crying.

Mom pulls her close. "Silly girl, coming home is your right."

Dad hands Celeste water. "Exactly. The problem is the person who won't let go of what isn't hers."

My soul hovers in the air, watching Celeste curl up in Mom's arms. She always knows what to say. Always knows how to make herself the victim while grinding me into the dirt.

My parents fall for it every time. From the day she came home. Two years later, they still can't see through it. Or maybe they don't want to see through it. Blood comes first. The real daughter is always right. The fake daughter is always wrong.

But there's still a thought in my mind.

I wonder what they'll do when they find out the truth about this kidnapping.