They Left Me to Die in the Avalanche

The blizzard howled, reducing the world to nothing but blinding white.

The rescue team trudged through knee-deep snow, their orange uniforms stark against the swirling snow curtain.

They found Isabella and me.

But there was only one stretcher.

Benjamin's hand clamped around my wrist with bone-crushing force.

His voice came out hoarse, laced with ruthless determination.

"Charlotte, your sister's health is fragile. She can't endure this. Let her go first and wait here for the next rescue team."

I looked up at him.

His bloodshot eyes showed no concern for me—only naked anxiety for Isabella.

Next rescue team?

I knew better.

Last time, I'd fallen for that lie.

I'd stayed in this frozen wasteland, surrendering my chance to Isabella.

And then?

The storm swallowed everything, cutting off all rescue efforts.

In subzero temperatures, I'd frozen limb by limb until my blood crystallized and consciousness faded.

I died.

My spirit hovered above my own funeral, watching Benjamin address mourners with practiced grief.

"That child was always willful and selfish. If her death could save Isabella... perhaps it served some purpose."

Served some purpose.

What a magnificent lie.

Meanwhile, my delicate stepsister Isabella smoothly inherited everything—including my mother's twenty percent stake in Sullivan Corporation.

And my charming fiancé, Ethan Chamberlain.

They'd been scheming behind my back, waiting for me to vanish.

At the funeral, their barely contained glee had been palpable.

Now, reborn at this critical juncture, I felt Benjamin's grip and the deathly cold wind.

Meeting his expectant, coercive gaze, I slowly nodded.

Tears welled up, tracing icy trails down my frozen cheeks.

"Alright," I whispered with feigned resignation. "Isabella can go first."

Benjamin blinked, surprised by my compliance.

A flicker of something crossed his face before concern for Isabella smothered it.

"Charlotte, I'll come back for you soon!" he lied hastily, already directing rescuers to load weeping Isabella onto the stretcher.

Wrapped in thermal blankets, only Isabella's pale face remained visible as they secured her.

Passing me, she fluttered her eyes open.

Not an ounce of gratitude—just secret triumph and veiled mockery.

As if to say: I always win.

I let my lips curve imperceptibly.

Go ahead, dear sister.

Let's see who truly serves a purpose this time.

The storm intensified.

The rescue team and their precious cargo soon vanished into white oblivion.

Alone in the wilderness, biting cold gnawed at my remaining warmth.

But I wouldn't wait for death.

Numb limbs protesting, I forced myself through waist-deep snow.

Memories flooded back.

After dying, I'd haunted Isabella, witnessing ugly truths.

Her crocodile tears at my funeral while screwing Ethan in secret.

Benjamin quietly helping them dismantle my mother's legacy.

My death became their stepping stone to high society.

Not this time.

Finding a wind-sheltered slope, I dug with bare hands.

Nails tore, blood staining snow crimson.

Pain meant nothing.

Survival drove me.

Finally, a crude snow cave emerged.

Curling inside, I blocked the entrance with my body, muting the storm's fury.

Still freezing, but not fatal.

As warmth crept back, I retrieved a black satellite phone from my jacket's inner pocket—my mother's final gift.

"Always keep an escape route, Charlotte," she'd said.

The screen's blue glow illuminated my bloodless face and icy calm eyes.

Full signal.

I pressed speed dial.

One ring.

"Charlotte Laurent?" A lazy yet tense male voice answered. "Did hell freeze over? Weren't you conquering mountains alone,嫌弃我们这些俗人碍事吗？"

Alexander Roscente.

My extreme sports partner-in-crime.

A reckless bastard who valued money, loyalty, and survival above all.

"Alex," I cut through his sarcasm. "Avalanche."

Silence.

Then a chair crashed as he roared, "What the fuck?! Where are you?!"

I rattled off coordinates. "I'm stable but need extraction now."

"Where's official rescue?!"

"They came," I said flatly. "Took Isabella. Benjamin said to wait for the next team."

Alex knew my family's rot.

"Next team? Bullshit!" His voice turned murderous. "Satellite shows a mega-storm in twelve hours! No rescues then! He's—"

He choked on realization. "He's leaving you to die."

"I know," I replied calmly.

Gear rustled as Alex panted. "Hold on, Charlotte! I'll blast through hell to get you!"

The call died.

Silence reclaimed the cave except for wind's mournful howl.

Leaning against icy walls, I conserved energy while imagining the scene below.

Benjamin Sullivan would be preening before cameras in tailored suits, performing perfect paternal grief.

Thanking rescuers, pledging undying search efforts—what touching devotion.

Meanwhile, Isabella would luxuriate in a private hospital suite, playing fragile victim.