Their Fake Death Was The Start Of My Revenge

My parents didn't waste any time. They were back at the house early the following morning.

Priscilla was in a foul mood after getting an earful from them, and she'd taken it out on me by forcing me to stay awake and sit on the couch all night.

Between the sleep deprivation and the gnawing pain in my stomach, I was drenched in a cold sweat, feeling like a hollowed-out shell of a person.

But when my parents walked through the door, I bolted upright instinctively.

In my mind, they had been dead for five years. Seeing them home in the flesh, perfectly fine, felt like a surreal fever dream.

"Perry, do you realize what you did wrong yet?"

Dad's cold, clipped question snapped me back to reality.

I froze in place, my voice catching in a raspy whisper. "What exactly did I do wrong?"

Dad's expression darkened. "Don't tell me five years haven't been enough to teach you how hard it is to make a living. We faked our deaths and moved abroad just to make you realize the truth. There will come a day when you won't be able to earn a thing, and every last penny will be gone."

Then, his tone softened. "It's just as well that you finally understand. At least now we don't have to stay away from home anymore."

A wave of icy numbness washed over me, and my voice began to tremble with suppressed rage. "So, in the end, I was just a burden to you?"

I poured out everything I'd been holding in. "I don't understand. Our family has more money than we could spend in several lifetimes, and I wasn't even spending recklessly. Why did I have to be punished like this? Do you have any idea how it felt? These five years, I—"

"Perry, just admit you were wrong!"

Mom rushed over and grabbed my hand, tears welling in her eyes. "To teach you this lesson, your dad hasn't even been able to come home to visit your grandma's grave for five years. You've had it hard, but so have we!

"Stop sulking. If you just admit you were wrong, this punishment ends right now, and we can go back to being a family—"

"I didn't do anything wrong!" I roared, wrenching my hand out of her grasp. "You're the ones who are wrong! Your whole way of thinking is twisted! I have absolutely nothing to apologize for!"

The words had barely left my mouth when Priscilla's hand struck my face in a stinging slap.

"Is that how you talk to Mom and Dad?" she barked. "Perry, what right do you have to feel like a victim? What right do you have to throw a tantrum? You think these five years were a walk in the park for me? If I didn't care about you, I would have gone abroad with Mom and Dad long ago!"

My mind went blank, a buzzing filling my ears. Whatever she said next was just muffled noise.

I stood there for a long time before finally nodding in resignation.

"Give me back the 130 grand I gave you," I said, my voice devoid of emotion.

I had traded my life for that money.

She shot me a look of pure disdain and made a quick call.

A moment later, someone walked in carrying the bag of cash.

I wiped my tears away, grabbed the bag, and turned to leave without another word.

Mom started to say something as she watched me walk away, but Dad held her back. "Let him go. Let's see how long he lasts on his own!"

I closed the door behind me and carried the money back to the run-down neighborhood where I'd spent the last five years.

I was just about to put my key in the lock when a hand grabbed my wrist.

"Hey, young man. This place has been sold. You can't go in there anymore," the man said.

"Sold to the Lennoxes, I assume?" I asked, not even bothering to look up.

He blinked in surprise. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

I let out a self-mocking laugh and walked away with my bag of money. I hadn't gone more than a few steps before the agonizing pain in my stomach flared up again.

I dragged myself to the nearest hospital.

While waiting for my results, I went to pay the bill. But moments after I handed over the cash, security guards tackled me to the ground.

My head was spinning, and I didn't even have the strength to fight back. Through a haze of shock, I caught snippets of them talking about "counterfeit bills" and "calling the police."

Before long, the police arrived.

The lead officer frowned and asked, "Young man, this money is all fake. Where did you get it?"

I stared at him in disbelief, frantically pulling the contract out of my pocket and shoving it toward him. "I didn't know! I earned it! I signed up for a clinical trial!"

I shouted in a panic, "This has nothing to do with me!"

He scanned the document, his frown deepening with every line. "You've been conned. This company is a front for a criminal syndicate. Did they draw your blood?"

His words chilled me to the bone. I managed a slow, stiff nod.

The officer let out a heavy, pitying sigh. "The drugs were fine, but the needles they used…"

He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

A sickening dread pooled in my gut.

Just then, a doctor came out with my test results and handed them to the officer.

"It's a Stage 3 blood-borne infection," the doctor said. "These swindlers are getting too brazen!"

My body finally gave out. I vomited a mouthful of black blood and collapsed, the world fading around me. The last thing I heard before I closed my eyes was the officer's frantic shout.

"Contact his family! Hurry!"