The Blood They Called A Prop

My mother, furious, slapped me on the spot. Fabian threw my birthday cake in the trash and spat, "You're disgusting."

"The medical report says you're perfectly healthy!" my mother slapped me again, her voice trembling with anger.

"You killed your own papa, and now you're faking an illness for attention? How can you be so selfish!"

From that moment on, they all saw me as a pathological liar. I tried to explain, but they refused to believe me. I didn't understand why my medical report would show I was healthy, until Gloria later gloated to me about her secret deal with the family doctor.

"I paid him a fortune to forge a perfect bill of health for you!"

The memory faded, and I dragged my weary body up from the floor. Fabian suddenly walked in.

"Let's go. To the family meeting. And stop testing my patience with this little act."

He saw the blood on the floor and his words faltered, his brow furrowing. "Margaret, can you just stop pretending? You're just making us despise you more."

I looked up and met his deep blue eyes, now filled with crushing disappointment.

We grew up together, navigating the treacherous pressures of our families side-by-side. After my father died and my mother and Yzail turned on me, it was Fabian who held me and said, "It's okay if they don't understand you. I will. I'll always love you and cherish you."

"And Gloria? The way she bullies you... I'll make her pay for it one day!"

But at some point, Gloria started joining our dates. He said she was like a little sister who needed looking after, that we should include her. Our world for two became a crowded three.

Then, whenever Gloria and I argued, he went from defending me to lecturing me, saying Gloria came from nothing and that I, a Ricci, should be more charitable. The Fabian who promised to love me unconditionally had vanished.

"Fabian, let's call off the engagement," I said calmly, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth.

Something unreadable flashed in his eyes. He rushed over and gripped my shoulders.

"Is this because I didn't protect you at the gala? Margaret, can't you be kind for once? You're already so fortunate!"

"You're a Ricci. You have a brother, and you have me. Gloria is just some girl your family took in out of pity."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Fortunate? My own brother despised me. The man I was supposed to marry was slipping away. My mother wouldn't even believe I was sick. If this was fortune, I wanted no part of it.

"I still want to call off the engagement."

The pain in my chest was intensifying. Last week, Alistair told me I only had a week left. The strong painkillers he prescribed could only dull the agony enough to make me appear normal.

This past week, I had been trying to sell my paintings to afford a decent burial plot. I wanted to leave this world with some dignity. It would be the last gift I gave myself.

"Fine. If that's what you want, then the engagement is off," Fabian said, storming out in a rage.

At least the engagement between us was just a political alliance. Our breakup would be clean, a simple severing of a political tie.

A moment later, I received an anonymous message from Gloria.

"How are you feeling today?"