Harper's POV

I was an illegitimate child, the product of rape.

No one wanted me, even Mom committed suicide the day she gave birth to me.

Since then, my four brothers took much delight in reminding me that it was me who caused our mom's death and destroyed the family. I was the sinner of this family.

I'd long since accepted this fact, but it still hurt.

Today was my 16-year-old birthday, also the day I dread most in the year. I admired my brothers, who can laugh and rejoice on their birthday. Cake. Presents. People singing off-key and laughing. But I didn't deserve any of it, and I never would.

In my room, I curled myself in the corner, pulled my knees up, wrapped my arms around them as tears fell down and made a little puddle on the floor.

My eyes drifted up to the crumpled paper on the wall across where I sat. It was the rules my brothers set for me. They were boldly written in red marker against the dirty yellow paper to represent me, dirty and unwanted.

Rule 1: Do NOT speak to us unless we speak to you first.

They rarely talk to me, and even when they do, it's just to insult me.

Rule 2: Do NOT look at us in the eye.

I don't deserve respect.

Rule 3: Do NOT stay in the same room with us for more than 5 minutes unless it's mealtime.

But there were times when I was just eating normally, and they'd still curse at me and punish me anyway.

So clearly, they were the rules themselves.

At the bottom of the rules was written in bolder than the rules: IF VIOLATED, THE CONSEQUENCES WILL BE AT YOUR OWN RISK.

They made sure I understood from a very young age that I wasn't worthy of love. They never laid a hand on me physically, but they broke me with verbal abuse and emotional manipulation. That was all they knew how to do. I told myself I should feel grateful they never hurt my body.

I wiped my face with the sleeve of my hoodie. The fabric was already damp. I looked at my arms where were covered in self-harm scars. The fresh cuts were still healing under the long sleeves. The pain from those cuts gave me a tiny bit of relief from the constant agony I endured every day.

I remember the first time I tried to end it, I was eight.

I didn't know what rape meant back then. Then I read the definition on the internet, read what it did to women, read what it meant for kids born that way. That night I took a kitchen knife and sat on the floor of my room trying to figure out where to put it.

My eldest brother Ryder found me, and he took me to the hospital.

When I woke up in bed with the white sheets and the beeping machines, he was sitting in the chair. He looked at me coldly and his every word felt like a slap.

"You already ruined our lives once," he said. "You really trying to do it again? You made us spend money on you for nothing. Stupid and selfish. Remember that, without my permission, you're not allowed to die."

Just thinking about it makes it hard to breathe. I closed my eyes and tried to slow my breathing. When my heart finally stopped hammering so hard, Lily's face appeared in my mind.

She was my cousin. One year younger than me. The only person who was ever kind to me.

Whenever she comes over, she finds a way to slip upstairs. Sometimes she brings little bags of chips or candy bars she bought with her allowance. Sometimes she brings books she finished and thinks I'll like. Most of the time she just sits on the floor with me and talks. About school. About stupid TikTok videos. About anything that isn't this house.

She always says the same thing before she leaves.

"This wasn't your fault. It's no one's fault."

I wanted to believe her so badly. But when she left and the house got quiet again, the words felt farther away.

The wall clock ticked causing me to glance up. It was 5 o'clock, and in another half an hour, my relatives would arrive to commemorate my mother's death anniversary. I had to be there, not because I was needed but because they needed someone to blame.

I'm used to it.

I stood up from the corner, and my legs felt numb from sitting curled up for too long. I stumbled into the bathroom and leaned against the sink, staring up at my thin reflection in the mirror, from the small frame to the red eyes and pale skin, I looked so emaciated, and yet, they still called me ‘fat pig'.

Whenever they wanted to punish me, my brothers would withhold my food for days, causing me to starve. I got used to it over time that eating made me sick sometimes. I became anorexic, as the internet said.

Lily got scared when she knew that. She started texting me at night.

"Please eat something, Harp. Even just a little. I don't want to lose you."

I didn't want to lose her either.

So I started sneaking down to the kitchen after midnight when everyone was asleep. I'd open the fridge, grab whatever was left, like cold rice, a piece of chicken someone forgot to throw away, or half a sandwich, and force it down standing at the counter.

I opened the drawer under mirror and took out the concealer I'd bought with the little money Lily slipped me last month. I dotted it under my eyes, patted it in with shaky fingers. Then I rolled up my sleeves just enough to cover the worst of the scars and smeared more over them. Layer after layer until the red lines disappeared.

They didn't need to know. I didn't want to give them one more reason to tell me how ugly I was.

I knew better than anyone how worthless I was.

Harper's POV

I changed into my black skirt. Downstairs, voices drifted up.

I knew relatives came the second I heard my name mixed in with swear words. The way they said "Harper" made it sound like a curse. I could almost feel the hate leaking through the walls and into my room.

The door opened without a knock.

Our maid, Mina stood there, arms crossed, looking at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. "Go downstairs, bastard," she said. Then she made a face, twisting her lips.

She would never dare speak to me this way in front of my brothers, in front of them, she played the dutiful maid. But when they weren't around, she made my life a living hell in all the small, cruel ways she could manage.

Not that my brothers would care if they knew.

"Coming," My voice came out hoarse.

Mina didn't move from the doorway, forcing me to squeeze past her. I took a deep breath at the top of the stairs, trying to prepare myself for what was coming.

‘Just survive it as usual' I tried hard to calm myself.

Each step down felt like walking toward my own execution.

"Oh, look, the bastard's here." Their sharp voices drifted over.

Even I kept my head lowered, eyes fixed on the stairs beneath my feet, I could feel their stares that could drop me to the ground.

I just wanted to die.

Ryder sat at the head of the table after Dad passed away last year. He never hit me or yelled at me, but his indifference was somehow worse. He let my brothers do whatever they wanted and never said a word to stop them.

I walked past him cautiously and found my seat. Across from me sat Grayson and Colton, my third and fourth brothers. Only three years older than me, but they hated me the most. They were the ones who came up with the rules. The ones who made sure I followed them. .

To my left was my second brother Logan. He didn't say mean things out loud as much as the others, but he did other stuff like destroyed my things, putting something bad in my water or meal.

To my right sat Aunt Vanissa. Lily's mom. Everytime she stared at me like I was the murdered to kill her sister.

Maybe I was.

My plate had almost nothing on it. A few soggy vegetables. Two small pieces of bread. No meat. I picked up my fork and tried to eat. My stomach twisted right away. I swallowed it once, twice. Then a small retch escaped before I could stop it.

Aunt Vanissa laughed. Sharp. "Oh look, the princess thinks the food isn't good enough for her. If it's not to your taste, darling, maybe you shouldn't eat at all."

Colton leaned forward, grinning. "Seriously. She's been mooching off us since the day she crawled out and killed Mom."

The words landed like punches. I gripped my fork tighter and my knuckles turned white.

‘Just ignore them' I said in my heart.

Aunt Vanissa reached over suddenly. She grabbed my plate and tipped it. Hot soup poured straight onto my lap and chest. It soaked through my dress instantly. The burn hit hard, sharp, stinging pain that spread across my skin. I gasped. Tears rushed to my eyes, but I blinked them back fast.

Everyone laughed. Just quiet chuckles, like they were sharing a joke I wasn't allowed in on.

Lily was the only one who didn't laugh.

I lowered my head more and kept picking at the hem of my shirt, trying to breathe through the pain.

"I still don't understand," Colten said, his voice casual, "why Mom even kept you in the first place? What's the point?"

"She's useless anyway. She belongs curled up in the corner like a dog, eating whatever scraps we leave behind."

"Oh, today's your birthday, right? Happy birthday to our walking curse!"

"Curse!"

I didn't even know who said them. Their voices blended into the laughter, stabbing me over and over like blades straight to the heart.

And finally, they made it, they broken me. I couldn’t take it anymore.

My chair scraped violently against the floor as I shot to my feet.

I didn't say anything nor look at anyone. I just moved, stumbling toward the stairs, desperate to escape.

Then my foot caught on something.

Someone had stuck their leg out their leg and suddenly I was falling. My knees cracked against the tile. Pain exploded up my legs. My palms hit next, skin scraping.

"Oops," someone said behind me. Colten or Grayson, I could barely recognise their voice in pain.

"Did you trip, Harper?" Another voice, mocking. "You should really watch where you are going."

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Slowly, I pushed myself up. My knees shook. My palms burned. I walked the rest of the way without looking back.

I reached my room. I slammed the door shut and locked it, then immediately collapsed against it, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor.

My breathing came in short, broken pieces.

Then my eyes landed on the wall.

There was a new photo of my mother. Someone had printed it big and taped it up. She looked beautiful while smiling. Next to it was a picture of me. My school photo from last year. Someone had drawn over my face with black marker with ugly lines and crossed-out eyes. And in bright red pen, right across my forehead: MURDERER.

I didn't know when and who put it there, but everything I'd been holding back broke loose.

I lunged forward. My hands shook as I ripped my photo off the wall. The tape tore. Pieces fluttered to the floor. I kept tearing up until nothing was left but scraps.

Then I dropped to my knees in front of my mother's picture. Tears fell fast.

"Why…" My voice came out hoarse. "Why did you give birth to me? Why didn't you just… let me die with you?"

I stared at her face.

But she kept smiling. Like she didn't know what she'd left behind.

Harper's POV

I opened the drawer with trembling hands and took the knife hidden in it. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, pressing the cold blade against my skin. I felt numb as it cut through.

I watched the blood drip down and I didn’t feel the sting. Not really. The physical pain was nothing compared to the ache that lived inside me every second. This just made the inside hurt a little less for a few minutes. That was all I wanted.

I tried my best to limit it to once a week, but it was hard.

I cleaned the blade and returned it to the drawer. Then I took off my clothes, pulled out the gauze I kept and began wrapping and dealed with the scald.

Outside, birds flew past in small groups. They looked so free.

I had tried to leave more than once, but every single time they dragged me back and punished me even more severely.

Gradually, I accpeted my fate, but still couldn't control myself to dreame that my family would love me, accept me, treat me as one of their own instead of the daughter of a rapist. I've dreamed that on this day, they'd celebrate my birthday with joy.

But I was wrong. Dreams don't come true. Not for me.

Maybe it was time to end it.

I let out a long breath, and picked up the pen to write something for my brothers.

Then the knock at my door made me freeze and hide the letter in my drawer. My heart was released when I heard the five rhythmic taps.

Lily.

I rushed to unlock the door. She slipped inside quickly, her eyes darting nervously down the hallway before she closed and locked it behind her.

"Harper, are you okay? God."

She took my hand gently and pulled me to sit on the bed, her fingers carefully examining the angry red marks.

"I already treated them," I told her softly. "It's no big deal. They'll heal."

She exhaled shakily. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out several small bags of dried prunes, pressing them into my hands like precious treasures.

"I brought these for you," she said. "I know you haven't eaten anything real today."

I smiled. She knew that these sweet-and-sour dried fruits were one of the few things I could force down.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She leaned in and hugged me tight. Her arm brushed against the fresh cut I'd just made. I flinched before I could hide it.

She froze. Then she grabbed my arm, turning it toward the light. The gauze had a bright red spot blooming through. Her mouth dropped open.

"Harper…" Her voice cracked. "You promised. You promised you wouldn't do it again."

"I really am trying to quit, Lily. But it's… It's too hard. I can't—"

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She was crying for me again, she was always crying for me.

She shook her head hard and wrapped her arms around me again. "It's going to be okay," she whispered into my hair. "It has to be okay."

"Really?"I buried my face in the crook of her neck. For a second, I let myself feel it, the warmth, the safety, and the one good thing in this whole house.

Then I pulled back and looked at her.

"I'm leaving."

She blinked. "What?"

"I'm leaving this place," I said more firmly, "This hellhole. I don't know where I'll go yet, but anywhere has to be better than here. But I need your help."

Lily was silent for a long moment as she held my hand.

"I support you," she said, voice shaking. "Whatever you need, I'm with you."

Ryder's POV

I jerked awake with a scream caught in my throat.

"Mom!"

I was sitting up in bed, chest heaving, sheets twisted around my legs. In my hand I held the old photo I kept on my nightstand where Mom was smiling with her arms around the four of us boys.

No Harper.

The picture was taken two months before she got pregnant. Before everything went wrong.

I stared at her face in the dim light from the hallway. Yesterday had been the anniversary. Sixteen years since she died giving birth to that… thing. Sixteen years since I lost her.

In the dream she was back in the hospital bed. Pale. Weak. Machines beeping. She reached up with a shaky hand and touched my cheek.

"Ryder," she whispered. "Promise me. Promise you'll take care of your little sister. Treat Harper like family. Like your sister."

I shook my head hard. "No. That monster isn't one of us. She did this to you. She made you suffer."

Mom's eyes filled with tears. "She's innocent, Ryder. She didn't ask for any of this. She's your sister. Please."

I screamed her name in the dream, same as I screamed it now.

I pressed the photo to my chest. My breathing was ragged. I hadn't slept right in years. Not since that day. Every night I saw her face. Every day I saw Harper's.

If it was up to me, Harper wouldn't carry our last name. She wouldn't live in this house. She wouldn't breathe the same air we did. She ruined everything. She took Mom away and left us with nothing but pain and anger.

On the day of the funeral I stood by the grave with my brothers and made a promise to myself. I would make sure Harper paid for it. Every single day. I would make her life so miserable she'd wish she'd never been born.

Ryder's POV

I still don't get it. Why did Mom want her in the first place?

Harper.

The name alone makes my stomach turn. Except for Lily, no one in this family can stand the sight of her. Not really. Dad used to pretend she didn’t exist. The twins treated her like a punching bag. Logan did his quiet, twisted games.

And me? I'd spent years making sure she felt every bit of the poison she brought into this house.

After Dad passed away due to illness last year, I took over the Wilson Group.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Today's schedule popped up right away. I was to meet Damon Ashford, CEO of Ashford Group.

Our companies have been competitors for years, smiling at each other in public and knives out behind closed doors.

Dad was always said before we can't push too hard yet. Ashford's bigger, has deeper pockets. But if we can land even one joint project, Wilson Group gets a real shot at turning the tables down the line. I wasn't excited. I was just ready to get it over with.

I showered fast, shaved, pulled on a dark gray suit, white shirt, no tie. Professional. Dad likes me to look when we're dealing with people like Damon.

When I came down the stairs, the house felt off. Too quiet. Normally this time of morning I'd hear the twins already going at it, laughing and throwing insults at Harper while she sat there shrinking into her chair. Today? Nothing. Just the clink of forks and low voices.

I stepped into the dining room. Colton looked up from his plate. "You're late."

I ignored him. He was nineteen going on twelve sometimes. Still acted like everything was a game. I scanned the table.

Then, without really thinking why, I asked, "Where's Harper?"

The question hung there. My brothers looked at me like I'd grown a second head. I never asked about her. I never cared where she was. The less I saw of her, the better I felt.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," I said flatly. "Just asking."

Colton snorted. "Probably still hiding in her room like the coward she is."

Grayson turned his head toward the doorway. "Mina!"

The maid appeared almost instantly. "Yes, sir?"

"Call Harper down," Grayson said. "Tell her breakfast is ready."

Mina nodded and disappeared up the stairs. We waited. I poured myself coffee and leaned back in my chair, already half-checked out. Let them have their fun. I'd watch. Same as always.

A few minutes later Mina came back. She looked nervous. "She didn't answer, sir. I knocked. Called her name. Nothing."

Colton laughed. "What, now she's too good to come down? Lazy pig."

Grayson smirked. "When she finally drags herself out, we should make her cry extra hard today. Birthday hangover."

I stayed quiet. Sipped my coffee. Let them talk.

But something felt wrong. The quiet wasn't right. I set the mug down harder than I meant to. "I'll check."

I stood up. My brothers exchanged looks but followed anyway. We climbed the stairs in a line, me first, then Grayson, Colton, and Logan trailing behind. I didn't knock when we reached her door. I just pushed it open.

She was gone.

"What the hell?" Grayson breathed.

I moved further into the room, my eyes taking in every detail. Colten walked to her desk, then froze. "There's blood here," he said, pointing at dark spots on the floor.

Grayson opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small knife. The blade was stained with dried blood. He stared at it in disbelief and maybe fear.

He turned to me, eyes wide. "She cut herself."

"What?" I felt my jaw tighten. She cut herself just for a small teasing?

Colton was already at her closet. He pulled the doors open. "Everything is here. She took off with nothing but what she was wearing."

Logan stayed near the door, arms crossed. He didn't say anything.

I didn't know what I was supposed to feel. This was what we wanted, wasn't it? Her gone. Out of the house. Out of our lives. No more reminder. No more walking curse.

So why did my chest feel tight?

At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed from downstairs. Lily burst into the room, panting heavily, clutching her phone tightly.

"Harper! She…" Lily's voice cracked.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked.

Tears spilled down her face in an instant. "Last night Harper told me she wanted to go see the ocean… I thought she just needed some time alone… I didn't think… when I woke up, I saw this."

She thrust the phone toward me, her hand shaking violently. I snatched it from her.

The words on the screen hit like a blade straight to the chest.

Dear Lily,

By the time you read this, I will already be sleeping in the sea.

Please don't be sad for me. Be happy instead. Because I'm finally free!

Under my pillow there's a letter that I wanted to say to my brothers. Please make sure they get it.

Don't miss me. I wish you all the happiness in the world.

"No!" Colton was the first to shout, his voice in panic.

Logan and Grayson's face was pale. He stood frozen.

That can't happen. How could she die without my fucking permission?!

I grabbed my phone and dialed Rick right away.

“Find Harper Wilson. Tear this city apart if you have to. Alive or dead—I want her found.”

Ryder’s POV

It had been a month since Harper disappeared.

A month of nothing. No leads. No footprints. No body. The search and rescue teams combed the woods behind the house, dragged the nearby river, checked every bus station and train depot within fifty miles.

They found exactly zero trace of her.

What the hell were they even doing with all that equipment and manpower?

I still refuse to believe she’s really dead. Maybe this is just another one of her carefully staged tricks. We didn’t even do anything to her—and for someone who caused her own mother's death, this much suffering is exactly what she deserves.

Logan has become even quieter than before, barely speaking at all now. The twins were only silent for one day. The very next day they started shouting that Harper had better be dead for real—if she isn’t, they’ll make her pay ten times over for deceiving all of us.

The knot in my chest hadn’t loosened once. If anything, it tightened more each day. I kept telling myself I should feel relieved. She was gone. The reminder was gone. So why did every breath feel like I was swallowing glass?

I pushed open the door to Mom’s room.

No one else came in here anymore. Only Logan and I had permission, and even he hadn’t stepped foot inside in years. I locked the door behind me.

The room looked exactly the way she left it. Pale blue walls. White curtains that let in soft light. Her lavender lotion bottle still sat on the dresser, half-full, but the scent had faded to almost nothing. Dust coated everything now. Happy memories mixed with the worst one, the day she died giving birth to Harper.

I sat on the edge of her bed. The old wooden frame creaked under my weight.

I reached for the giant teddy bear propped against the headboard. She gave it to me when I turned six. I used to drag it everywhere. Now it just sat there collecting dust. I pulled it into my lap and pressed my face into the soft fur.

Nothing. No trace of her lavender smell left. Just old fabric and time.

My voice came out cracked and small. “Mom… Harper’s missing. They can’t find her. I don’t believe she’s dead. I should feel free. I should feel… something good. So why does it hurt this much? ”

My hand brushed the small pocket on the bear’s little red vest. Something hard poked against my fingers. Paper.

I froze.

Carefully, I reached in and pulled out a folded note. The handwriting on the front stopped my heart cold.

“To my dearest Ryder.”

My pulse hammered in my ears. Mom wrote this? For me?

The paper had yellowed at the edges, soft from years of being tucked away. I unfolded it with shaking hands.

The first line stole every bit of air from my lungs.

Dear Ryder,

I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay to watch you grow older, to see all the beautiful things life has in store for you.

Before i passed, I wanted to tell you something, but in the end I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t sure if my suspicion was correct.

The moment Harper was born, I looked at her and saw features so like your father’s.

I remembered that one month before the assault, your father and I had sex…

So I kept it from everyone, even him. I arranged for a DNA test at the hospital without telling a soul.

But I'm in too much pain. I'm afraid I won't live long enough to see the results.

I’ve instructed the lab: they are to give the envelope to my maid, Mary, and never tell her what’s inside.

If Mary followed my instructions, the result is folded inside this very letter.

I don’t know what it says.

Ryder… if you haven’t been kind to Harper, and if she turns out to be your full sister… please don’t hate yourself forever.

Just promise me you’ll make it right.

Whether you tell your brothers is up to you.

I read the words again. Then a third time. My hands shook so hard the paper rattled like dry leaves.

Tucked inside the fold was another envelope, hospital logo, lab stamp, and sealed.

I tore it open.

The single sheet inside had official letterhead. Bold black text.

Probability of Paternity: ≥ 99%

Harper Wilson is the biological daughter of Johnson Wilson.

No.

No. No. No. No.

This wasn’t real.

This couldn’t be real.

I was dreaming. I had lost my mind. The letter was fake. Someone planted it. Harper planted it before she left. Anything. Anything but this.

But when I looked again, the words were still there. Clear as day.

Harper was my full sister.

The room spun. I dropped the papers onto the bed and bent forward, hands on my knees, trying to breathe. My chest felt like it was caving in.

All those years. The rules on the wall. The insults. The nights she cried alone in her room. The scars I never asked about. The way she flinched when any of us walked past.

I violated mom's last wish.

I caused my own sister's death.