My Blood Buried Her Lies

Elijah was about to explain, but Isabel cut him off.

"Julian, get down here."

"Explain yourself, or don't bother coming home."

If I could move, I would've come down long ago to confront you face-to-face. Why would I need to watch you all put on a show?

I couldn't accept it—their lies got my only family killed, and destroyed her entire life and youth.

It took everything I had just to lift my head and look at Isabel.

She was glaring at me, eyes blazing with fury. Such a convincing performance.

But my strength gave out before I could speak. Warmth trickled from my nose—blood.

Elijah noticed something was wrong. Panic flashed across his face as he tightened his grip on my back, ready to rush out.

He was the only one who knew about my illness. I'd never told Isabel—I didn't want to burden her.

But her people blocked our way.

"Isabel, tell them to let us through. Julian's sick too—stomach cancer."

"He paid for your treatment without saying a word, he just wanted—"

"What? What did you say?"

Isabel's head snapped up toward Elijah. Before he could continue, Henry cut him off.

"Hahahaha, nice try. You'll say anything, fake anything, just to make excuses."

"Stomach cancer? Sure. Then I've got leukemia—I'm dying too!"

The crowd erupted in laughter.

Whatever flicker of concern had crossed Isabel's face vanished instantly.

"Julian, get the hell down here. Now."

Elijah kept trying to explain. She refused to listen.

After Jacob texted Henry, he didn't hesitate—just lifted his foot and kicked Elijah down.

I fell with him. My palm slammed into broken glass.

The pain had already numbed my nerves. I had no strength to speak, let alone crawl.

Elijah choked back a sob. He dragged himself over to help me up, his hands smeared with my blood.

Isabel couldn't tell any of it apart. She thought we were acting.

"Fine. I lowered myself to bring you home, and you still refuse. Since you two are such good brothers, let's see how it feels—watching your best friend get beaten while you can't do a thing."

"Hit him. Beat him until Julian crawls up to stop it."

The moment she finished, Henry moved first. More than a dozen men closed in around Elijah.

One person against all of them.

Tears blurred my vision. My eyes were slowly closing.

I felt so hopeless. Even beaten bloody, Elijah still crawled toward me, still trying to get me to a hospital.

I never understood why he was so good to me. I'd only helped him once, but he remembered that kindness forever.

We grew up together, but I had family. He was an orphan.

In our village, he was always the one getting bullied. Every holiday, every house was warm and bright—except his, cold and empty.

I brought him home. Had my mom take him in as her godson. From then on, he had a mother. He had me—an older brother to protect him.

From that day on, he was never alone again.

And he stopped being the weak one. He became someone who knew how to protect his family.

The crowd kept growing. Not a single person stepped forward to help us. To stop the beating.

As my eyes finally closed, I looked toward Elijah.

Guilt was the last thing I felt.