The Sister's Folly Chapter 1

In my past life, Claire took all our guards to stage a meteor shower for her lover Julian in the countryside.

Enemies seized the chance to attack our estate. Mother Eleanor shielded me but was mortally wounded. My desperate calls finally brought Claire back reluctantly.

Though we captured the intruders, tragic news arrived - Julian had disappeared, leaving a suicide note blaming me for "luring Claire away." Claire burned it dismissively: "Just drama."

Father reprimanded her and surprisingly named me heir.

That victory night, Claire strangled me in my bedroom. "You deserved this," she hissed. "The inheritance was always mine."

I died resentful. When I reopened my eyes, enemies were breaking down our gates.

* * *

The deafening crash of the heavy iron gates of our estate being ripped open dragged me back from the suffocating grasp of near-death.

I clung desperately to my mother, who was panicking, trying to rush out and see what was happening. Instead, I pulled her back, dragging her into my bedroom.

Slamming the door shut and locking it, I gasped for breath. “Mom, help me!” I choked out, gesturing wildly for her to help me shove the massive mahogany wardrobe against the door.

“Fred, what are you doing? We have security guards, what are you afraid of?” Eleanor looked at me, her eyes wide with a fear she couldn't hide.

She didn't know yet. She didn't know Claire, my sister, had taken every single security guard with her for her sugar baby Julian.

“Mom, Claire took all the guards! It's just us!” I gritted my teeth, straining every muscle to push the wardrobe.

The heavy mahogany scraped across the polished floorboards with a teeth-gnashing shriek, leaving deep gouges in its wake. Eleanor froze, disbelief warring with terror in her eyes. Our family, the Montgomeries, stood at the pinnacle of influence. Security was always paramount. How could all the guards be gone?

But then she saw my ashen face, and the truth, raw and horrifying, began to sink in.

“Quick! Call your sister! Tell her to come back now!” Eleanor urged, her voice trembling.

I didn't answer. My gaze was fixed on the door, barely held in place by the wardrobe. My trembling fingers dialed 911, giving a terse, urgent explanation of our situation and address. I couldn't rely on Claire for immediate rescue; in my past life, she had returned too late. Mom had succumbed to her injuries, missing the critical window for treatment.

Hanging up, a leaden dread settled in my chest. Heavy snowfall had blocked the roads for days. Our estate was nestled on a hillside, a considerable distance from the nearest police precinct. I couldn't bear to imagine what might happen before they arrived…

“CRACK!” The door shuddered violently. I instinctively braced myself against the wardrobe, a wave of primal fear washing over me.

Just then, Eleanor’s call to Claire connected.

“Claire, you have to come back! Intruders… there are intruders!” Eleanor’s voice was laced with a desperate sob.

From the other end, Claire’s impatient voice crackled through. “Alright, Mom, stop making things up. I’m still celebrating Julian’s birthday. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I’m not lying! There really are intruders! Please, come back, or you’ll be collecting our corpses!” Eleanor practically screamed.

Claire’s tone turned even colder. “I know you don’t like Julian, but you don’t need to invent such outrageous lies to scare me. And tell Fred to stop with his pathetic little games. I won’t fall for them again.”

At her words, my heart plummeted into an icy abyss.

Claire had also been reborn! But why did she believe this was a fabricated lie concocted by me? In the last life, she had witnessed firsthand the brutal torment we endured at the hands of those thugs. Why, in this life, was she so utterly indifferent? All because of Julian, that pathetic excuse for a man? All because of her flimsy accusation, “Fred did this on purpose”?

The rhythmic thud of approaching footsteps grew louder, halting just outside our door. Then, a more violent CRASH against the door, and the wardrobe began to shriek, dragging across the floor. We watched, horrified, as our makeshift barrier slowly gave way, until—“SNAP!”

A chunk of wood splintered from the wardrobe’s corner, revealing a gaping crack. Through it, a sliver of the hallway’s dim light cut through.

The man outside chuckled, a low, guttural sound. “Thought you could hide, did you? You’re in here, just as I expected.”

I instinctively stepped in front of Eleanor, retreating slowly toward the bed. My eyes fixed on that widening crack, the growing sliver of light revealing the horror lurking beyond. A crushing sense of powerlessness washed over me, cold sweat slicking my forehead.

Then, the door was violently ripped open, the screech of the wardrobe's broken base scraping against the floor piercing my ears. A pair of grimy boots stepped inside.

“You thought bracing the door would save you? I don’t have the patience for a long game.” The man smirked, his eyes, yellowed and predatory, swept over the room. I froze, my gaze riveted on the glinting dagger in his hand, its cold steel reflecting off his dirty knuckles. His gaze settled on Eleanor, a greedy, sickening leer, like a snake’s tongue flicking over prey.

“Well, well. Tonight, I get to have some sport with both mother and son.”

Eleanor let out a piercing shriek. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

I clenched my jaw, suppressing the surging despair in my chest. I turned to Eleanor, my voice low and urgent. “Mom, no matter what happens, don't interfere.”

“Step back. The trampoline is right outside the window. Jump. It should break your fall.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Then, run to the Thorne estate next door. Find Vivian. Tell her to bring people to save me.”

The man with the dagger was closing in. We were out of time. I had endured their torment in the last life; this time, I would die before I let anything happen to Mom.

“Fred, I can’t leave you alone!” Eleanor cried, tears streaming down her face.

I gripped her wrist, my fingers digging into her skin. “Listen to me. Just jump. Then, run to the Thornes. As long as you’re alive, anything is possible.”

Just then, the man shoved the shaking wardrobe aside and lunged toward us.

“Mom, jump! Now!” I cried out, my voice laced with desperation.

But instead, Eleanor lunged forward, throwing herself at the man. She clung to his arms, pulling and dragging, trying to hold him back.

“Fred! Jump! Go! Mom won’t let them get you!” Her voice was choked with sobs, but it was resolute, final.

“Mom!” I screamed, my heart tearing in two. I watched in horror as the dagger, in a swift, brutal arc, plunged into her back.

That flash of crimson exploded in my mind, shattering every last shred of my stunned rationality. Eleanor gasped in pain, but she held on, clinging to the man’s waist, her voice still urgent, still resolute as she called to me:

“Jump, Fred! Jump! Don’t you dare hesitate!”