Chapter 1
Adele's POV:
A reporter shot to their feet, microphone in hand, their voice cutting like a blade.
"Mr. Callender, years ago, to protect your adopted daughter Daphne Galloway, you deliberately made your own flesh and blood shoulder the blame, driving her into severe depression.
"So tell me, is this some twisted marketing stunt, or is it the truth?"
My father, Robert Callender, straightened his tie with infuriating calm.
From his pocket, he pulled out a crisp, folded sheet of paper.
It was a diagnosis certificate stamped with the glaring scarlet seal of a top municipal hospital.
He tapped the words "Severe Depression" with his finger.
"It is no stunt. You cannot fake an official hospital diagnosis. But as Patient Zero, after three years of artificial intelligence therapy, she is now presenting as entirely normal. She has been completely cured."
My mother seized the microphone, her eyes shining with hope and maternal pride. "This child has suffered so much for our product trials. Once she is fully back on her feet, we will make it all up to her.
"We promise she will have just as bright a future as our adopted daughter, Daphne."
'Just like Daphne.'
I pulled at the corner of my mouth. A bitter wave surged and curdled in my stomach.
My name is Adele Callender. Three years ago, Daphne Galloway drove drunk and triggered a deadly multi-car crash.
My father made me take the fall.
"Adele, Daphne's father burned to death saving your grandfather. We owe the Galloway family a debt we can never repay, and we owe Daphne the same."
My father's hands had clamped down hard on my shoulders. The weight of his grip nearly buckled my spine.
"You are not eighteen yet. You will not go to jail. If Daphne gets a criminal record, her life is destroyed forever. Your mother and I are begging you. Please?"
He was right. Because of my age, I escaped criminal charges.
The victims' families swarmed the streets, banners clenched tightly in their fists.
Someone whipped a half-eaten takeout container at my forehead with vicious force.
To shield Daphne, my parents abandoned me right there.
Just like that, they shoved me onto the opposite side of the entire world.
I became the living vessel for every ounce of Daphne's sins.
The cyberbullying, the venom, the hate, they dragged me into a bottomless abyss.
Until the first time I hurt myself in the bathroom and was hauled back from the edge.
They installed an artificial intelligence therapist on my phone.
Whenever the dark urge slithered into my mind, that warm, synthetic voice would detect my despair in a heartbeat.
For three years, it was the only lifeline that could pull me back into the world of the living.
Three days ago, Daphne waltzed in with a report and told my parents, "Uncle, Auntie, Dr. Miller says after all this treatment, it is time to desensitize her.
"She needs to be weaned off the therapist gradually. Otherwise, she will develop a dependence on it, just like a drug addiction."
From that day on, every message I sent sank into a black void. Not a single reply ever came.
The sleeping pills began to take hold, a heavy numbness seeping through my limbs.
'If I shut my eyes this time, I will never have to wake up.'
Then my screen blazed to life. My mother's messages bombarded the family group chat in a frantic burst.
Eleanor: [Tomorrow we are all taking a family portrait. We will livestream it to show off your glowing recovery.]
Eleanor: [I have hung a white dress on your doorknob. Daphne handpicked the style for you.]
Eleanor: [Your depression has exhausted your father and me for years. Now that you are cured, be considerate and play your part without a fuss.]
Those words coiled around my throat like a phantom grip, squeezing the air from my lungs.
An inexplicable panic swallowed me whole once again.
The drug-induced dizziness swelled, a relentless tide threatening to pull me under.
I mustered the last shreds of my strength and hauled myself out of bed.
Staggering to the door, I fumbled the lock until it clicked, dead-bolted and sealed.
Safe at last.
The next morning, the first light knifed through the curtains.
I found myself floating, weightless, suspended in midair.
Down on the mattress, my body lay frozen, eyes sealed shut, breath stolen forever.
From the hallway, a familiar rhythm of footsteps suddenly shattered the silence.
