The Family Sacrifice Chapter 8

Sabrina's POV

Gilbert walked up to the officer's desk and pulled out Yvonne's phone.

I watched from the corner as he showed them the blackmail message. The officer's expression shifted as he read through each document.

My parents leaned forward, trying to see what Gilbert was showing them. Yvonne's face drained of all color.

"What is that?" My mother asked.

The officer looked at Yvonne. "Ms. Wells, you're being blackmailed. The message says you're perfectly healthy and you framed Sabrina Collins."

The waiting room went completely silent.

"That's ridiculous," Yvonne said quickly. "Someone's trying to extort money from me because they know I'm sick—"

"Sabrina had stage four stomach cancer." Gilbert's voice shook as he cut her off. "She was diagnosed on November 24th, the same day I pushed her to agree to test those drugs for you."

My mom gasped. "What?"

My father grabbed the desk for support. "Cancer? Sabrina had cancer?"

I watched my father's face fall apart.

When I was alive, I needed them to believe me. Now that I'm dead, I don't need anything from them anymore.

"And this." Gilbert held up the marriage certificate. "Sabrina registered our marriage under Yvonne's name. She made me Yvonne's husband legally. She gave Yvonne everything, even me."

That's when Yvonne just snapped completely.

She started laughing, this sound that kept getting louder.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

"Finally!" Yvonne threw her hands up. "You idiots finally figured it out!"

"Yvonne—" My mother reached for her.

"Don't touch me!" Yvonne jerked away hard. "You stupid woman! You killed your own daughter! You and that pathetic excuse for a father!"

My father's face went gray. "What are you saying?"

"I was never sick!" Yvonne screamed. "I've been healthy for years! I danced in clubs, I smoked, I drank! And you idiots believed every word I said because you wanted to believe it!"

My mother started crying. "No... no, that can't be..."

"Sabrina tried to tell you! She saw me at a nightclub when she was in high school and she told you the truth, but you slapped her for it! You called her jealous!" Yvonne was still laughing through her words, years of pretending finally breaking open.

"Stop," my father whispered.

But Yvonne couldn't stop now.

"You know what the best part was?" She turned to my parents, "When you said you'd leave most of the estate to Sabrina after I got better. Most of it. Like I was still just the outsider, the charity case, the poor orphan you took in."

Her whole body shook with rage. "I was never going to be equal to her in your eyes! Never! So I found that fake doctor and I made sure those drugs would destroy her body. I made sure she'd suffer, and then when she was weak enough, I'd suddenly 'recover' and you'd be so grateful you'd give me everything!"

My mother collapsed to her knees, sobbing.

I watched my mother cry and felt nothing at all.

She's crying now. Where were those tears when I was alive? When I was bleeding? When I was begging them to see me?

"And you!" Yvonne whipped around to face my father. "You kept saying Sabrina owed me because my parents died rushing to her birthday party! You made her think she killed them! But guess what, it was all fake! It wasn't because of her! Grandma lied!"

My father let out a strangled sob.

"You tortured your own daughter for twenty years over a lie!" Yvonne's laughter turned hysterical. "You gave me everything that was hers!"

They made me feel like I owed the world an apology just for existing.

My mother was screaming now, pulling at her own hair. "No! No! No!"

Then she just stopped. Her eyes rolled back and she fell sideways onto the floor.

"Harper!" My father dropped down beside her. "Harper, wake up!"

An officer called for an ambulance.

My father clutched his chest suddenly, his face twisting in pain. He fell forward over my mother's body, and they rushed both of them to the hospital.

The police found Dr. Wallace two days later trying to board a flight to Argentina. Gilbert identified him immediately and they arrested him at the airport. Yvonne was charged with fraud, conspiracy, and involuntary manslaughter.

I followed Gilbert to the courthouse when they set her bail hearing.

The judge denied bail. Yvonne would stay in jail until trial.

"I need to talk to you," Gilbert told the officer afterward. "About my marriage."

He explained everything: the forged certificate, Sabrina's name replaced with Yvonne's.

"I need to file for divorce immediately," he said.

The officer looked through the paperwork. "You'll need Ms. Wells's signature."

"She'll refuse," Gilbert said quietly.

"Then you'll have to wait for the criminal trial to conclude."

Gilbert's hands clenched into fists. "How long?"

"Six months. Maybe longer."

He's trapped now, just like I was trapped. The irony would be funny if I could still laugh.

Three days later, Yvonne's lawyer came to Gilbert with a message.

"My client will agree to sign the divorce papers, but she wants to see you first. One visit."

Gilbert stared at him. "Why?"

"She didn't say. But she won't sign without seeing you."

Gilbert went to the jail the next morning.

Yvonne sat on the other side wearing an orange jumpsuit, her hair pulled back, no makeup. She looked like me.

Gilbert picked up the phone. Yvonne picked up hers. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither one speaking first.

"I'll sign," Yvonne said finally. "After we talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"You wanted me all along, didn't you?" Her voice dropped low. "Even when you were with Sabrina. You looked at me and wished she was more like me. More delicate. More in need of saving."

Gilbert's jaw tightened. "That's not true."

"Yes it is." Yvonne leaned closer to the glass. "You wanted me all along, didn't you? Now you have me. Forever."

She smiled.

Then she pulled something out from under her sleeve: a piece of metal she must have stolen from somewhere, sharpened to a deadly point.

Gilbert's eyes went wide. "Yvonne, don't—"

But she was already moving.

She drove the metal through the small gap at the bottom of the partition, straight into Gilbert's throat. Blood sprayed across the glass in an instant. Gilbert fell backward off his chair, his hands clutching at his neck as guards rushed in, but Yvonne was faster. She turned the weapon on herself and dragged it across her own throat in one smooth motion.

They both died. They deserved each other.

The news broke that same day.

Every channel carried the story: rich family's favoritism leads to daughter's death, parents ignored their own child while spoiling their niece, forced her into a deadly drug trial. My parents' names and faces were everywhere, and the internet tore them apart.

My mother never left the hospital after her collapse. She saw the news from her bed, watched her reputation burn on every screen. Two days later, she took all the pills the nurses had left on her table, every single one.

They found her in the morning.

My father was in a different wing, recovering from his heart attack. When they told him about my mother. He started screaming that he could see me, that I was standing in the corner of his room, watching him.

"Sabrina!" he kept shouting. "I'm sorry! Please! Forgive me!"

They moved him to a psychiatric facility.

Actually, I'd wanted to leave a long time ago. I wasn't interested in what happened to them, but something kept holding me back, wouldn't let me go. So I had no choice but to stay at the psychiatric hospital with my father.

Three weeks later, he threw himself from a fourth-floor window.

And the morning after my father's death, something changed.

I looked down at my hands and they were fading, becoming transparent.

It's over. I can finally leave.

I was free.