His Endless Hate

The Resented Sister

Ethan was my brother.

But for the past 21 years, he had harbored nothing but hatred for me. In his eyes, I was the one who killed our parents.

It happened on my fifth birthday.

Mom and Dad were away on business in a nearby province, but they hadn't forgotten me. As soon as they wrapped up work, they called to ask what I wanted as a gift.

Young and naive, I only wished to celebrate with them and my brother—to share my birthday cake, to share that simple joy.

To make that wish come true, they jumped in the car and rushed home through the night.

But instead of a birthday, it became a day of mourning. My birthday marked the day they died.

After they were gone, the family tore itself apart, fighting tooth and nail for custody of me and Ethan. None of them cared for us—it was all about getting their hands on our parents' wealth.

Finally, my maternal uncle stepped in, beating them all to win custody.

When he brought us home, his eyes were red with grief. He promised that every penny of the inheritance would stay safe for us, untouched.

My cousin Hannah, who was just a child herself, gripped Ethan's hand and promised, "Don't cry, Ethan. I'll protect you from now on."

From then on, I realized my brother's capacity for kindness.

He remembered every little thing Hannah liked, waited for her after school, and rushed to defend her if anyone dared to pick on her.

Every holiday, he would craft a perfect surprise just to make her smile.

That was how a brother should treat his sister. But all I ever saw in his eyes was resentment toward me.

This grudge had stretched on, undisturbed, from my fifth birthday to the present day.

…

The next day, when I arrived at the office, something felt off.

People gave me sidelong glances as if they had something to say but couldn't bring themselves to speak.

I shrugged it off until I reached my office—and found my things tossed out in a chaotic heap on the floor.

My belongings lay strewn across the floor, my designs shredded, torn nearly in two.

I couldn't keep the edge out of my voice. "What's going on here?"

A familiar chuckle answered from inside the office.

Hannah appeared in the doorway, flashing me a bright "Oh, hey, Emilia," she said, voice dripping with false innocence.

"Sorry about this. Ethan says I'm now the official designer of Eternal Dawn and the company's head embroiderer. So this office will be mine now."

She raised her brows with a smirk. "Guess you'll have to join the common workspace."

The room went still, tension hanging heavy in the air.

"Have you no shame?" My assistant, Melody, stormed over, standing protectively in front of me, her face red with anger. "Everyone knows Emilia is the maker of Eternal Dawn! Don't you feel an ounce of shame, stealing it like this?"

Hannah's eyes welled up immediately, turning her into the perfect picture of wounded innocence. Her red-rimmed eyes and trembling nose played to the crowd with flawless ease, winning sympathy, as always.

And sure enough, as soon as her sobs began, Ethan's furious voice thundered through the silence, splitting the air like a crack of lightning.

"Emilia Perry, get in here!"