After I Killed Myself, My Hater Brother Cried

Chapter 5

I picked up the scrap of paper on autopilot, unlocked a shared bike, and rode straight toward the address written on it.

The shop was tucked away in a remote suburb. When I told the owner what I’d come for, he didn’t ask a single question. He just pulled the bracelet straight out and handed it over.

It made sense. Shane must have already told him what to do.

I felt nothing, no rise or fall in my chest. All I wanted was to hand the bracelet back to Jerome as fast as I could, and then we’d be square, no debts, no lingering ties between us.

But just as I reached out to take it, the shop owner let go way too early.

Crack!

The bracelet slammed against the concrete floor and shattered into a dozen jagged pieces.

I froze solid on the spot, my blood draining away until my face was as pale as a sheet.

The owner yelped, "Hey miss, watch it! This isn’t my fault!"

"Angel!" Jerome’s furious voice roared out from behind me.

I spun around sharply and my gaze crashed straight into Shane’s taunting, triumphant stare.

She hooked her arm tight through Jerome’s and purred, "See what I told you, Jerome? Angel did this on purpose! She’d even break Mom’s bracelet just to get back at you, and you still kept saying you wanted to forgive her!"

Jerome didn't seem to hear a word she said. His eyes were fixed on the shattered pieces of our mother's keepsake scattered across the floor as he slowly made his way toward them.

His body went rigid as he knelt down. It took him forever to gather each broken piece one by one, then clench them tight in his palm.

"It wasn’t me! He let go too early. I wasn’t the one who sold Mom’s things five years ago either…"

Seeing how broken he looked, a panic I’d never felt before coiled tight in my chest. I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out the explanation.

But the second Jerome heard my voice, he shot to his feet and snapped. It seemed he had enough, and he slapped me hard across the face.

The blow sent me reeling, and I crumpled to the ground in a heap.

My stomach twisted into a sharp, knotted cramp. My cheek burned like it was on fire, and unbidden tears burst from my eyes, splattering hard against the floor.

His chest heaved violently, his twisted face dark enough to scare anyone. "You still have the nerve to talk? I've given you every chance for five whole years! I kept telling myself that if you'd just come home and tell me where Mom's things are, I'd forgive you. But what about you? What have you ever done?!

"Angel, you don't deserve to be a member of the Lancel family, and you sure as hell don't deserve to be my sister!" He roared, red-eyed and completely unhinged, consumed by utter disappointment in me. He'd never lost control like this before.

My heart plummeted straight into hell.

A sudden, thick coppery tang flooded my throat. I clenched every muscle in my body just to force the rising blood back down.

I choked out, my voice thick with sobs, "What if I am dying?"

"Cut the pathetic act!" Jerome stared at me with pure disgust, his fingers clamped so tight around the shards of bracelet that blood seeped out between his knuckles and dripped to the floor. "I wouldn't feel a thing even if you dropped dead right in front of me!"

"Fine." I clenched my fists and stumbled unsteadily to my feet.

At that exact moment, something clicked for me. I was already dying anyway. All the grudges, all the debts, none of it really mattered anymore. It was all nothing.

If he's dead set that I did all of it, then fine, I did it.

After death, we all turn to a handful of dirt anyway. Nothing will matter then.

I huffed a bitter, hollow laugh, turned on my heel, and walked out of the shop.

Jerome roared after me, "Where the hell do you think you're going? Are you only happy when you've pissed me off to death?!"

I didn't look back. Only my voice drifted back to him, "You don't have to die. It'll just be me."

End of Angel's POV

For the next two days, Jerome never tried to contact Angel at all.

He took the shattered bracelet to the finest craftsmen in the city to be repaired, but no matter how skilled they were or what methods they tried, none could ever restore it to its original flawless state.

Staring at the clumsy, unrecognizable mess that had once been his late mother’s most cherished keepsake, Jerome’s face hardened into an ashen, iron‑gray mask of unbridled rage.

On the first day, he made a formal public announcement declaring that he was severing all ties with Angel completely. Standing before a crowd of clamoring reporters, his expression was ice‑cold and utterly devoid of warmth as he spoke in a sharp, biting tone.

"From this day forward, I will never interfere in any matter concerning Angel. Whatever path she chooses, whatever work she takes, even if she stoops to selling herself for cash, I will not lift a single finger to stop or save her.

"There is only one condition I demand: never speak her name in my presence ever again. The mere sound of it turns my stomach and makes me sick."

The media erupted into a frenzy of shocked whispers and flashing cameras, but Jerome paid them no mind.

Without hesitation, he formally struck Angel’s name from the official Lancel family genealogy, erasing every trace of her existence from his family records forever.

On the second day, he took Shane straight to the Lancel ancestral burial grounds to pay their respects to their ancestors. He had Shane’s last name legally changed to Lancel, formally making her an official member and the rightful young lady of the house.

One elder relative, bewildered and troubled by his drastic actions, pulled him aside to ask, "Is this truly necessary? Angel is still your own biological sister, after all. If you cast her aside so ruthlessly, what if she falls into danger or meets a terrible end?"

Jerome pressed his lips into a thin, unyielding line, his voice dripping with icy contempt, "What possible harm could ever befall her? For five long years, I held her down and kept her firmly under my control, yet she still clung stubbornly to survival, did she not?

"She’d never have the nerve to kill herself. She’s too much of a spineless coward to end it all, and let’s be honest… she’d never dare show her face to our mother’s spirit on the other side, not in a million years!"

But fate had played a cruel trick on him. Jerome was utterly, devastatingly wrong this time.

What he could not see was that Angel had been standing silently right beside him the entire time, invisible as air. She lingered there as a spirit, a ghost no living eye could perceive.

She had already been dead for exactly two days. She had drowned herself in the river not far from their childhood home. The pain had grown far too unbearable, the heartache far too heavy to carry any longer. For her, death had felt like nothing less than a sweet, gentle release from a life filled only with suffering.

Yet what she had never imagined would happen came to pass on the third day.

Jerome received an unexpected call from the owner of an urn and memorial goods shop. The man on the other end sounded flustered, frustrated, and on the verge of losing his temper.

"You’re Angel Lancel’s brother, aren’t you? She listed you as her emergency contact information, so don’t even think about denying it!

"Your sister placed an order here some time ago for a custom‑made urn, but she still hasn’t settled the remaining balance. Now tell me straight... does your family even want this item or not?"