I Let Them Kill My Sister Chapter 2

The second the meeting concluded, I locked myself in my private office to analyze everything that had happened in my previous life.

After running through the events with no clear answers, I called my assistant, Rachel, into the room. Pretending I was talking about a "friend," I recounted the exact details of my past life's murder.

Her face contorted in thought, her eyes darting back and forth before she finally spoke.

"Boss, has it ever occurred to you that this sister might not actually be blood-related? What if this entire situation was a trap designed specifically to eliminate you?"

Spending too much time reading crime thrillers online had given Rachel a dangerously sharp intuition.

"Think about it. Why would a family's first reaction to a kidnapping be demanding ransom money instead of calling the police? And that final struggle with the knife... isn't it a little too convenient that his 'accidental' push resulted in a fatal strike to the heart?"

Her words hit me like a bolt of lightning. The fog completely cleared.

After a long silence, I looked up at her. "Drop everything regarding the upcoming IPO. I have a very specific investigation I need you to run."

Rachel left with her orders. I stayed in the office, continuing my work as if nothing had happened. After hours, I drove straight to my private luxury condo instead of returning to the family estate.

In this life, I completely completely washed my hands of the mess. My father was left running around like a headless chicken, desperately liquidating his own assets to scrape together the ransom.

Meanwhile, I quietly shadowed his movements. Every antique or property he sold off, I anonymously purchased back. I even started attending high-society charity galas, throwing obscene amounts of money at rare diamonds, vintage paintings, and poverty relief funds.

One evening, as I walked out of an exclusive auction house admiring a newly acquired emerald bracelet, a disheveled figure lunged out of the shadows, startled me.

Taking a closer look, I realized it was my father. He looked like a homeless beggar, his clothes wrinkled and his face covered in a thick layer of stubble from days of exhausting desperation.

"Mary, are you truly going to let your sister die at the hands of those butchers?"

"It is only fifty million! That is pocket change for you! Is money really more important than human life?"

"Did you forget the promise you made at your mother's grave? You swore you would protect your sister for the rest of your life!"

If I only had suspicions before, seeing his desperate, manipulative face confirmed it. There was a traitor in my inner circle.

"I already told you. I do not have that kind of liquid cash, and even if I did, I would never spend it to save her. Instead of ambushing me in the street, you should be figuring out how to pawn the rest of your watches."

"Let me make this perfectly clear. I would rather burn my fortune or donate it all to charity than give a single dime to a disaster like Isabella. Give it up."

A crowd of elite socialites was beginning to form. I had zero interest in being their evening entertainment. I signaled my driver to push him aside, stepped into my Bentley, and drove away.

Somehow, the events of that night reached the kidnappers.

Infuriated by my statement that I would rather give my money to charity than save Isabella, they began relentlessly bombarding my private phone with calls and texts. They demanded I bring the ransom to the drop-off location completely alone, or Isabella was dead.

Reading the text, I could not help but laugh out loud.

This was fifty million actual dollars, not Monopoly money. Fifty million dollars in cash weighs hundreds of pounds. It would look like a literal wall of paper. Did they expect me to carry a mountain of bills by myself like some kind of superhero?

I ignored the threat, powered down my phone, and opened the classified dossier Rachel had just sent me.