Don, Why Did You Lock Me in a Coffin for Her?

My half-sister. She was 3 years older than me. The daughter my father had with another woman years before he met my mother.

Nobody knew she existed until she arrived carrying a DNA test and a stack of documents proving who she was. By then, her mother had already been dead for years. She claimed she'd grown up alone in foster homes and shelters with no family to rely on. An orphan. A pitiful girl.

At least that was how she presented herself.

Big innocent eyes, a soft voice, constant mistakes, always looking helpless. People couldn't help wanting to protect her.

Especially Apollo.

She joined Riccio Group as Apollo's assistant shortly afterward, and that was when everything started changing.

At first, it seemed harmless.

One evening during dinner, Apollo chuckled while scrolling through his phone.

“You know that girl nearly shot a hole through my office wall trying to learn how to use a handgun.”

I looked up and he was smiling.

“She spent twenty minutes arguing that the safety was broken before realizing she hadn't even switched it off.” His laugh deepened. “So I had to teach her myself.”

Something uncomfortable twisted inside my chest.

Apollo rarely talked about anyone, yet here he was talking about Agatha again and again.

“She's a disaster,” he continued. “Every time I give her a simple task, she somehow turns it into a crisis.”

His voice carried a warmth I hadn't heard in months.

Why did it hurt so much? Why was I jealous over something so small?

I told myself I was overthinking but I was wrong.

...

Months later, Agatha accidentally handed sensitive documents intended for one of Apollo's allies to the wrong family. The mistake nearly caused a major conflict and jeopardized a deal worth hundreds of billions.

Apollo walked into the conference room. Everyone expected him to explode— instead, he just laughed.

Then he reached over and ruffled Agatha's hair.

“Our Agatha's just too innocent.”

She'd nearly caused a disaster.

Yet he wasn't angry.

Another time, Agatha wandered into my dressing room and became fascinated with a vintage diamond necklace my mother had left behind. It was one of a kind and impossible to replace.

The next day, it was found shattered across the marble floor.

I knew exactly who had done it.

Agatha stood nearby with a guilty expression while Apollo examined the broken jewelry then he looked at her and smiled.

“It was an accident.”

That same afternoon, he commissioned an even more expensive piece.

Not for me, for Agatha.

I remember standing there wondering whether I should laugh or cry.

Had I become invisible?

Or had I simply stopped mattering?

The answer came on my twenty-first birthday.

The entire ballroom had been decorated for me. Guests filled every corner, and a towering cake stood in the center of the room.

Apollo was beside me cutting the first slice when he suddenly paused. His gaze drifted somewhere far away, and a small smile appeared on his face.

“Agatha loves tiramisu.”

The room fell silent.

Apollo glanced at the cake.

“If she were here, she'd probably claim the biggest slice before anyone else could touch it.”

Everyone laughed. Everyone... except me.

Something shattered inside my chest.

Because I finally understood.

Agatha wasn't just some assistant. She wasn't just my half-sister.

She'd already moved into Apollo's heart completely and there wasn't any room left for me.

...

After that, Agatha stopped pretending.

She'd show up at the mansion whenever she wanted. Sometimes she'd cling to Apollo's arm. Sometimes she'd spend hours in his office. Sometimes she'd look at me and smile, a smile nobody else seemed to notice, a smile that felt poisonous.

I swallowed every insult, every humiliation, every bit of pain. I kept telling myself to endure it.

Then she started disappearing.

The first time, Apollo nearly tore the city apart looking for her.

When she returned crying and trembling, she immediately pointed at me.

Apollo believed her.

The second time, he believed her.

The third time, he believed her.

The fourth time, he believed her.

By the eighth time, I already knew how it would end.

Every disappearance followed the same pattern. Before vanishing, Agatha would secretly tell me where she planned to go before tilting her head with a sweet, innocent smile.

The kind everyone loved.

“Do you think Apollo's going to lose his mind looking for me again?”

I never answered. She'd just giggle before leaning closer.

“Do you think he'll punish you this time too?”

My hands clenched.

Agatha's smile widened because she already knew the answer.

She disappeared eight times.

And I suffered eight times.

Apollo never once questioned her accusations, never once asked for proof, never once believed me.

I lost every single time.

That night, after he'd buried me alive in a coffin full of rats and maggots because of her, I finally fell asleep.

But even in my dreams, Apollo wouldn't leave me alone. His face kept appearing, growing closer, colder, more terrifying with every passing second.

I woke up gasping.

My pajamas were soaked with sweat, and my body trembled uncontrollably. For several seconds, I couldn't tell whether I was still trapped inside that coffin, whether rats were still crawling over me, whether I was even safe.

Eventually, reality settled in.

I sat up and stared out the bedroom window. A bitter laugh escaped my throat.

What was I still holding onto?

A promise?

A memory?

A ghost?

Slowly, I opened the wooden box hidden at the back of my closet. At the very bottom was an envelope.

My acceptance letter.

To the European Forensic Science Institute.

I'd secretly applied months ago, hoping to study forensic science and criminal investigation. It was the only future I'd ever imagined for myself that didn't revolve around Apollo.

The letter had been sitting there ever since because I knew he'd never let me go.

I stared at it for a long time before picking up my phone. My fingers trembled as I dialed the number.

“Mr. Brahms...” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I've made my decision.”

A brief silence followed.

“I accept your offer.”

Mr. Brahms sounded genuinely relieved. “Elarisse... are you certain?”

“I am.”