Chapter 2

That night, the three brothers never made it back to the hospital.

Lena posted a photo that quickly gathered over a million likes.

Her caption read: "Thank you to my brothers for spending my birthday with me. It feels so good to be back with family."

And there was only one hashtag underneath: The Sinclair Group Heirness.

The four of them laughed together as they leaned in to blow out the candles.

Outside their window, fireworks worth millions of dollars exploded across the night sky. Even from my hospital room, I could see them.

I thought back to my own birthday the year before, when Samuel had rented out an entire arena just to throw me a concert.

Everyone used to say that the three heirs of the Sinclair Group spoiled their sister rotten. No matter what I want, they would figure out a way to bring it to me.

When Lena was first brought back into the family, they wanted nothing to do with her.

They tore up her dolls, smashed her old suitcase, and even shoved a frog into her backpack.

"Claire is our only sister," they told her. "So what if you're related to us? There will never be a place for you in this family."

But then the ALS started taking over my body. My muscles shrank before my own eyes until I could no longer even stretch out my fingers.

Eventually, I ended up slumped in a wheelchair, unable to go to the bathroom without someone staying by my side.

Alexander walked away from a billion-dollar deal and used those hands, the same hands that signed all those contracts, to wash my soiled clothes.

Samuel turned down an international brand endorsement and rushed back home just in time to take a family portrait with me before my face began to fall apart.

And Lucas worked around the clock, often forty-eight hours straight, pulling me through one emergency surgery after another.

But I also knew that they would slip away to places where I couldn't see them, break down sobbing, and pick up cigarettes they had given up years ago.

Life slowly began to improve later, though none of it had anything to do with me.

Lena dazzled the audience at the international ballet competition and even went on to win a beauty pageant, bringing great honor to the Sinclair family.

My brothers threw a celebration for her, shouting with joy, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around in the air.

Meanwhile, I lurked in a dark corner like some damp, wretched creature, watching them from the shadows.

When they finally turned to look at me again, their eyes carried a weariness and just a hint of disgust.

The next day, I checked myself out of the hospital and went home alone.

But the moment I came back up the stairs in my wheelchair, I found all my things dumped on the floor.

Lena was there, ordering the movers around like she owned the place as they carried her luggage straight into my bedroom.

I dug my nails into my palms and stepped in front of her. "My parents left this room to me."

She didn't even try to act sweet anymore. Instead, she let out this cold, ugly laugh. "Your parents? Just because you lived in the Sinclair family doesn't make you a Sinclair.

"You really don't get it, do you? This room? The whole family? My brothers would hand it all over to me without a second thought."

Before I could say a word, she grabbed the little dog curled up in the corner and stabbed it.

Blood sprayed across the floor.

My eyes went wide. I couldn't even speak.

That dog was the last thing my parents ever gave me. It had stayed by my side through every hopeless night after they died.

I'd even found it a new home.

Staring at the pool of blood, I felt a surge of rage rise in my chest. I shoved her hard. "What gives you the right?"

But the next thing I knew, she crumpled to the floor and shoved the knife into my hand.

Then the door burst open.

Alexander's cold, sharp eyes locked onto the bloody knife I was holding.