She Discovered Too Late

The Day My Sister Chose Him

My mind drifted back fourteen years.

I was thirteen then, and Sherry was twenty-one. Our parents had died in a car crash, leaving behind the Bennett family fortune and a swarm of relatives circling like vultures.

Back then, Sherry protected me as if her life depended on it.

At the funeral, one of our drunk uncles pointed at me and snarled, "That kid's cursed. Your parents died because of him."

Sherry punched him so hard his nose exploded with blood. Then she stood in front of me and warned coldly, "Touch my brother again, and I'll make you regret being born."

That night, she held me while I cried until I could barely breathe.

"It's okay, Landon," she whispered over and over. "I'm here. I'll protect you for the rest of my life."

I believed her completely. I thought it would always be the two of us against the world.

Then, Mason Bennett showed up—our father's son from another relationship—and everything changed.

Mason was sickly, so Sherry gave him my bedroom because it got better sunlight. He didn't like the housekeeper's cooking, so she took him out to eat almost every night. He hated sleeping alone, so she sat beside his bed until he fell asleep.

A month before my SATs, Mason was diagnosed with a rare liver disease. His condition deteriorated quickly, and Sherry nearly lost her mind trying to save him. She took him across the country, meeting every specialist money could buy.

Eventually, the doctors gave her two options: wait for a donor liver, or proceed with a living donor transplant.

The waitlist could take years, but Mason did not have years.

A living donor transplant required a compatible immediate family member. In the entire Bennett family, I was the only match.

…

The day Sherry came to talk to me, I was sitting at my desk doing practice exams.

"Landon," she called softly from the doorway. "You know about Mason's condition, right?"

I kept flipping through my textbook.

She continued, "The doctors said your compatibility rate is the highest."

I turned another page.

"Landon… he's going to die." Her voice trembled for the first time. "Please. Save him."

I finally looked up at her. "Sherry, do you remember the last time I got sick?"

She froze.

"I had a 104-degree fever and spent two days alone in my room," I reminded her. "No one checked on me. You were out shopping with Mason because he told you he was in a bad mood."

Her lips parted slightly. "Landon… I was wrong about that—"

"And what about the time I got shoved down the stairs?" I cut in. "Do you remember that?"

I held her gaze. "I told you Mason did it. You told me I should watch where I was going instead of blaming him for my own accident."

Her face slowly drained of color. "Landon…"

I stood up from my desk. "You want me to save him?"

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then, I nodded.

"Fine. But after this, we're done." My voice was calm enough to scare even myself. "I would longer no be a part of the Bennett family, and you would no longer be my sister."