Chapter 1

I knew from a young age that our family didn’t have money.

Getting sick cost money, so I wasn’t even allowed to get sick.

When I was four, I ran a high fever. Mom grabbed me and stuffed me into the freezer.

When she pulled me out, I was still conscious, blinking up at her.

My face was freezing. My tears had frozen solid.

Mom glanced at me and said irritably, “You’re just faking it to skip school. See? You didn’t die.”

After that day, I kept every discomfort to myself.

I thought Mom was right—I must have been faking it.

Otherwise, why did every ache and pain go away without medicine or shots?

Life went on like this, until the school-organized medical checkup in middle school.

I ran home with the cancer diagnosis in my hand, excited. “Mom! I have cancer!”

This time, with proof from a doctor, Mom wouldn’t think I was lying.

Mom, I’m not lying this time.

I ran home holding the diagnosis, my emotions a mix of excitement and anxiety.

The doctor said I had three months left at most. I didn’t want to die yet.

But I couldn’t help hoping that during those three months, Mom and Dad might finally care for me.

Whenever my brother got sick, the whole family would crowd around him.

I wasn’t greedy. I’d be satisfied if someone would just take me to the hospital.

I pushed the door open, holding the white paper high, afraid they’d miss it.

“Mom! Dad! I have cancer!”

The room went silent for two seconds. Then hurried footsteps approached, along with Mom’s signature lavender perfume.

I lowered the paper and opened my arms, ready for her embrace.

Rip.

Mom snatched the diagnosis from me and tore it to shreds.

Before I could process what was happening, a sharp sting spread across my cheek.

I didn’t get her embrace. I got her slap.

“Your brother is sleeping! Don’t you know that? And you make up some ridiculous lie!”

Dad put down his newspaper and walked over.

“Chloe, you’re old enough to be sensible. Everyone knows you’re healthy.”

“You’ve never even had a cold. If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.”

I covered my face and pointed at the shredded diagnosis in the trash.

“But the doctor said—”

Mom and Dad had already turned away, discussing my brother’s meal plan.

“Felix has lost weight again. That seven-hundred-dollar monthly meal plan clearly isn’t nutritious enough.”

Dad looked worried too.

“But the next tier costs fifteen hundred. We really can’t afford that.”

Mom suddenly turned to me.

“The hospital is recruiting volunteers for a new drug trial. They specifically need healthy subjects. It pays fifty thousand per person.”

“I was going to volunteer myself, but we’re both too busy with work…”

I understood what Mom was implying. Hope flickered in my chest.

If they needed to verify the volunteer’s health, then Mom and Dad would finally find out I wasn’t lying.

“Mom, let me be the volunteer.”

Dad immediately chimed in.

“You’re so considerate of your brother. You know Felix has always been frail. As his older sister, you need to be understanding.”

Mom gave a cold laugh.

“Trying to earn points after admitting you lied? Fine, I’ll give you this chance.”

She pulled a red, round pill from her pocket and gestured for me to swallow it.

“Lucky I work at the hospital. Saves us all that annoying paperwork.”

I didn’t take it. I looked closely at the pill.

“Mom… don’t I need a checkup first?”

Mom frowned.

“What checkup? You’re always thinking about spending money. If you’re not healthy, nobody is.”

Dad glanced at my brother—a sturdy boy—coughed once, took the pill from Mom, and grabbed the water glass from the table.

Ignoring my resistance, he shoved it into my mouth.

“Why waste words on a kid? Felix just coughed. Go check if he’s catching a cold.”

I choked, unable to speak.

Mom pulled me into my room and locked the door.

“I already disinfected your room. Just stay put.”

“The observation period is three days. After that, you’ll come to the hospital with me. If you behave, I’ll get you takeout.”

My head was throbbing. I wanted to tell Mom I didn’t feel well, but the words wouldn’t come out.