Whether Grace was faking it or actually dying, it didn't matter.
I wasn't going back.
I had no Resurrection charges left.
I just hadn't expected my parents—people who cared so much about their reputation—to stoop so low. To force me back to heal Grace, they started a livestream.
Facing the camera, they wept, accusing me of having no conscience, of harboring a vicious, jealous heart.
They claimed that to compete for their favor, I had engineered accident after accident, trying to kill my own sister. Now that Grace was traumatized from a "car accident" and burning up with a fever, I wouldn't even visit. Instead, I was out filming videos with strangers, using the scandal to line my pockets.
Mom even flashed a bank statement showing my earnings. "Look closely! Michelle Fox doesn't lack money at all!"
"That sanitation worker buying her porridge? It's all a show! It's acting!"
The livestream turned me into public enemy number one.
The videos Eliana and I had filmed were mass-reported and taken down. Eliana was even warned by her supervisor: stop filming, or get fired.
By then, the countdown on my arm had reached single digits.
One hour.
That was all I had left.
"It's my fault," I said softly.