They Chose Her Mansion Over My Sister's Life

My ridiculously wealthy parents were convinced my sister and I were scheming to steal their fortune, so they kept us on a measly $200 allowance a month.

Then my sister got hit by a car. She was hanging on by a thread. I begged my parents for help with the surgery costs, but they just sneered, "You'll use any excuse to get money, won't you? Desperate much?"

"At least put some effort into it next time. Try Photoshopping a death certificate."

Broke and desperate, I turned to illegal underground boxing to make the money fast. I almost got myself killed, but I finally scraped together enough for her operation.

But when I went to pay the hospital, the entire account was empty.

Before I could even confront the fight promoter, my parents called.

"Noticed a pretty big deposit in your account. You didn't secretly strong-arm the CFO into transferring money, did you? Guess we've spoiled you two too much."

"We took the money back. Consider it a lesson. And we're cutting your allowance in half—starting now."

Click. They hung up. No chance to argue.

My sister died because she never got that surgery.

Right after the funeral, I saw my adopted sister's post online:

"Just got a brand new McMansion! Shoutout to the best parents EVER! ~"

I stared at the picture of the three-million-dollar house, numb. After a long moment, I tapped like and commented: "Congrats. You'll get everything."

Stepping out of the funeral home, the wind cut like a knife.

I clutched my sister's photo, knuckles white. My phone rang— "Dad" flashing on the screen.

I barely got a word out before he started yelling.

"What did you post online? Take it down. Now!"

"Haley's already got a cold. Your comment made her cry so hard she almost ended up in the hospital!"

Same old story. Haley's signature move—play the victim, and Mom and Dad would bend over backward for her.

I used to try to explain. To make them see.

But now? I was just tired. And furious.

My voice came out rough, cracked. "Did I lie?"

"Have you ever treated us like real daughters? Haley's the only one you care about."

There was a pause, then my mom's voice cut in, soft and condescending. "Honey, Haley's school is so far away. We got the house to make her commute easier."

"You're the older sister. Can't you be understanding?"

Easier for her to get to school?

My sister and I went to the same school as Haley. We rode the bus for hours every day. Whenever we asked for a ride, we were called "wasteful."

Haley had a private driver.

My sister was dying, and they refused to help—but they bought Haley a three-million-dollar house.

Who was the real daughter here?

Rage tightened around my throat.

Dad cut Mom off. "Why are you even explaining? I'll give my daughter whatever she wants! If she doesn't apologize to Haley, she's not doing that art competition she mentioned."

The art competition…

My sister loved to paint. Her teachers said she had real talent. They said winning could've gotten her into her dream school.

To save up for the entry fee, she skipped breakfast and pinched every penny.

But she still couldn't save enough.

So we begged our parents. They reluctantly agreed.

Meanwhile, Haley got anything she wanted.