My Ghost Watches Them Burn

Link, accelerate the metastasis. Im ready to disconnect from this vessel.

Its been three days since the diagnosis. Gastric cancer.

My parentsConrad and Catherine, the billionaire power couple who practically own this cityrefused to sign the surgery authorization forms. Again.

Why? Because Chelsea needed them.

Over the phone, their voices didn't carry concern. Only venom.

"If Chelsea hadn't warned us, we might have actually fallen for this little stunt," Conrad sneered. "Faking a terminal illness for attention? Youre pathetic, Piper. Its embarrassing."

"Let her rot in there for a few months," Catherine added, her tone icy. "Maybe the silence will teach her how to behave."

Behave?

A bitter laugh clawed at my throat. Too bad.

This time, Im actually dying.

By the time they finally remember to come collect the body, itll be too late.

Chapter 1

The white of the hospital walls wasn't just clean; it was aggressive. A sterile, blinding glare that burned my retinas.

I curled up in the single, pathetic strip of sunlight cutting across the sheets, but the warmth couldn't penetrate the ice in my veins. The cold went bone-deep.

"Piper? Sweetie, lie back. Its time for your drip."

Nurse Penny slid into the room. Her voice was soft. Too soft.

It didn't track.

I was the daughter of the wealthiest family in the state. I was lying in a Platinum VIP suite that cost more per night than most people made in a year.

So why did she look at me like I was a stray dog about to be put down?

Pity. Pure, unfiltered pity.

"Penny," I asked, my voice scraping against the silence. "Did you send the pathology report to my parents? To Conrad and Catherine?"

Penny flinched. The needle in her hand hovered over my vein, trembling just enough to miss the mark.

She forced a smile. It didn't reach her eyes.

"Relax, honey. Its malignant, sure, but we caught it early. A couple of rounds of chemo, a quick surgery, and youll be good as new."

"Don't worry."

I nodded, my fingers gripping the bedsheet until my knuckles turned white. I needed the words.

"But... did you notify them?"

Pennys lips parted, then closed. She looked away, focusing intently on the IV bag.

Silence.

That was the answer.

She had told them. Of course she had. They just didn't care enough to show up.

Before leaving, she gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Don't give up, Piper. The cells haven't spread yet. We can fix this."

I managed a weak, fractured grimace. I couldn't speak. If I opened my mouth, Id scream.

She was wrong.

The cancer wasn't the real killer.

When I transmigrated into this world, Linkthe Systemgave me one rule: Win my parents' love, or face deletion.

I dragged my body deeper into the fading patch of sunlight, shivering.

The cancer was just Link's way of starting the countdown.

Tick tock.

If this continued... I was a dead woman walking.

Chapter 2

The body I inhabit belonged to the true daughter of this dynasty.

Switched at birth due to a hospital screw-up. Raised in a blue-collar nowhere town until I turned eighteenexactly one year ago.

When Link first assigned me this mission, I almost laughed. It seemed too easy.

Win the parents' love?

Please. Biology is a powerful drug. Who doesn't instinctively love their own flesh and blood?

But I underestimated the cruelty of reality.

I wasn't the only "Miss Lin" in the house.

There was another girl. Born on the same day, same year.

Chelsea.

The imposter. The girl who lived the life that should have been mine.

The honeymoon phase was deceptively perfect.

When I first arrived, Conrad and Catherine drowned me in tears and guilt-ridden embraces. I was their "lost treasure," their "baby girl."

It took me three months to secure my position. I was the golden child, the prodigal daughter returned. I even had the grandparents eating out of the palm of my hand.

I navigated the social minefield. I dodged Chelsea's petty traps and subtle sabotages with ease.

Until the day she dragged me to the living room, gripping my arm with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Piper, look. Daddy's wine collection." Her voice was sugary sweet. "Every bottle in here is worth a fortune. Be careful, okay?"

I barely glanced at it. I don't drink.

One month later.

Conrad and Catherine skipped my academic awards ceremony to attend Chelsea's parent-teacher conference.

When they returned, the air in the house was heavy.

Chelsea caught my eye. She smirkeda quick, sharp twist of her lipsand then hurled herself backward.

Straight into the glass display case.

CRASH.

The sound was deafening. An explosion of glass and dark, expensive liquid.

The cabinet tipped, raining debris down at my feet.

Shards sliced through my slippers, biting into my soles. The vintage red wine soaked my socks, stinging the open cuts like acid. A sharp, drilling pain shot up my legs.

But before I could even gasp, Chelsea was screaming.

"Dad! Mom!"

"Chelsea?! What happened?"

Conrad and Catherine rushed in, freezing when they saw the carnage.

I stood there, paralyzed in a puddle of crimson and broken glass, blood mixing with the wine.

Chelsea pointed a trembling finger at me, tears instantly flooding her face.

"She... she was mad you guys went to my conference today!" She sobbed, her voice cracking perfectly. "She shoved me! I hit the cabinet and it just..."

I later learned that the wine wasted on that floor could have bought a mansion in the Hamptons.

It was my fifth month in this house.

Conrad didn't ask questions. He didn't check my bleeding feet.

He crossed the distance in two strides.

SLAP.

The force of his hand snapped my head to the side. My ear rang with a high-pitched whine. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

Because Chelsea, in a stroke of genius, had dropped to her knees right in the middle of the jagged glass, kneeling before me.

She looked up at them, eyes shimmering with practiced martyrdom.

"Piper, please! Mom and Dad love you the most! They only went to my school because they had to!"

She crawled forward, ignoring the glass, and hugged my legs.

"I don't want to fight with you! If you hate me this much, blame me! Don't be mad at Daddy! We're victims too!"

"If you really can't stand me being here... I'll leave! I'll pack my bags right now!"

I stared at her. It was a masterclass in gaslighting. A performance so visceral I almost applauded.

But before I could defend myself, Conrad's voice thundered through my ringing skull.

"Piper! Is this how those low-class people raised you?"

His eyes were full of disgust.

"Acting like a perfect angel to our faces, then pulling this vicious crap behind our backs? You are a disappointment."

Chapter 3

I tried to defend myself.

My words dissolved into the air, unheard.

All eyes were on Chelseas knees. They were a mess of shredded skin and blood where the glass had done its work.

Conrad didn't waste a second. He scooped her upbridal styleand rushed her out the door toward the emergency room.

I was left standing in the wreckage.

Alone.

I looked down. I was wearing plush house slippers.

I had to walk out of the debris field. Crunch. Squish. Step.

Glass shards pierced the soft rubber soles, biting deep into the tender arches of my feet with every shift of weight.

I made it to my bedroom, leaving a faint trail of crimson on the hardwood. I sat on the edge of my bed, teeth gritted, pulling the shards out one by one. No numbing cream. No sympathy. Just the sting of antiseptic and the trembling of my own hands.

When they returned, Chelsea was the wounded soldier.

Her knees were wrapped in thick, professional gauze. Conrad and Catherine supported her on either side, a human crutch, treating her like she was made of spun sugar.

When they looked at me, the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

"Piper, go to your room. Reflect on what youve done."

"Chelsea might not share our DNA, but we raised her for eighteen years. Do you think we can just turn off our feelings?"

"Don't think we don't love you," Catherine added, her voice trembling with self-righteousness. "Were doing this because we love you. We can't watch you become this... twisted. We have to fix you."

I opened my mouth to speak, but a sharp, electric jolt of pain shot up from my heel, forcing a hiss through my teeth.

Catherine rolled her eyes.

"Drop the act, Piper."

"We saw you wearing slippers the whole time. Youre fine."

The defense died on my tongue. It was pointless.

I turned and limped toward my room. The glass had done real damage; my gait was uneven, jerky.

To them, it wasn't pain. It was defiance. A stubborn tantrum.

Chelsea had figured out the cheat code: Self-harm for sympathy.

To paint me as the villain, she was willing to bleed.

The narrative cemented itself. In their eyes, I was the ruthless invader, willing to do anything to secure my spot.

They started going out as a triofamily dinners, galas, movies. I was left in the empty house.

They called it "building my tolerance."

That was when the System started the punishment protocols.

Warning: Parental Affection Levels Critical. Redirecting Affection to Chelsea.

My body began to fail. Weakness. Nausea. Pain.

I needed to counter-attack. I needed a crisis.

So, I got into a fight at school.

Amber. She was the class bully, twice my size and mean as a snake. I engaged.

We both ended up in the nurse's office. My lip was split, swelling fast.

Conrad and Catherine stormed into the school like a hurricane.

For one brief, shining moment, I felt it. The love.

"Piper! Oh my god, look at her face!"

"My poor baby. Why did you engage with her? Look at the size of that girl!"

Catherines fingers were gentle as she brushed the hair from my bruised forehead. Her eyes were wet.

Conrad stood in front of me, a wall of expensive wool and fury, berating my homeroom teacher.

"Mrs. Gray! Is this how you run a classroom? My daughter is bleeding!"

"Mom, Im okay. Really."

My eyes burned. I leaned into Catherines embrace, soaking in the warmth, the scent of her perfume.

See? They do love me.

And then, the door opened.

Chelsea walked in.

She stopped, looking from my bruised face to our parents. Her eyes went wide, jaw dropping in a perfect expression of shock.

"Piper..." Her voice quavered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Did you... did you seriously start a fight and lie about it just to get Mom and Dad to come here?"

"You did this just for attention?"

Chapter 4

One sentence. That was all it took to dismantle the world I had fought for.

Conrad and Catherines faces hardened instantly. The warmth evaporated, replaced by a wall of glacial indifference.

They didn't defend me. They didn't ask for my side. They just turned on their heels and walked out of the school, leaving me standing there with a throbbing face and a shattered heart.

I tried to call after them, but the split in my lip stung sharply, silencing me.

It wasn't my fault. Amber had started it. She was the one who taunted me, loudly announcing to the cafeteria that I was a charity case, an unloved orphan masquerading as an heiress.

I refused to let the narrative stick. I was desperate.

I convinced Amber. I got her to admit the truth. I even dragged Mrs. Gray all the way to our estate to set the record straight.

Mrs. Gray stood in our foyer, looking uncomfortable under the chandeliers glare.

"Mr. Lin, please listen. Weve clarified the incident. Piper was defending herself. She wasn't the aggressor."

I looked at Conrad, hope fluttering in my chest.

He looked back at me with eyes full of profound disappointment.

"Piper," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Have you really sunk this low? Manipulating your teacher? Coercing classmates to cover your tracks?"

"Is there no limit to your lies?"

The air left the room.

Ding.

In my mind, Links warning bell tolled. A deep, resonant sound of failure.

My health began to freefall after that.

But I stopped fighting back. I stopped trying to prove anything.

It didn't matter what evidence I had. It didn't matter if I bled. One whisper from Chelsea, one well-timed tear, and I was the villain. Every single time.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I whispered into the void.

"Link... when can I go back?"

The Systems voice resonated in my skull. Low. almost sympathetic, in a robotic way.

"Complete the mission. Or die."

I lay there in silence for a long time.

Death...

Honestly? It didn't sound so bad. Eighteen years later, maybe Id get a fresh start.

But I missed my world. I wanted to go back.

Conrad and Catherine, terrified I would "hurt" their precious Chelsea again, locked me down. Solitary confinement in my own bedroom.

At first, they came to check on me daily. But their eyes were guarded, their words scripted.

"Piper, have you reflected on your actions?"

"Piper, do you admit you were wrong?"

I shook my head every time. Stubborn.

Admit what? That I exist?

Eventually, their patience snapped. They stopped coming.

The silence in the house grew heavy until the day my body finally gave out. I collapsed on the bathroom floor, alone.

By the time the ambulance came, Conrad and Catherine were already on a plane. A luxury getaway to clear their heads.

They didn't visit the hospital. Not once.

Instead, my phone lit up with a text message from Conrad.

[Conrad: Piper, when you're ready to admit your mistakes and apologize to your sister, you can come home. We will not enable this toxic behavior anymore.]

I stared at the screen until the letters blurred. A dry, broken laugh escaped my lips.

What was my mistake?

I finally figured it out.

My mistake wasn't fighting. It wasn't lying.

My mistake was simply being me, instead of the daughter they chose. I lacked their bias. I lacked their favor.

Do they love me?

I guess Ill have to die to find out.

Chapter 5

Gastric cancer.

The diagnosis hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Nurse Penny tried to spin it. "Don't spiral, honey. Early stage. Very treatable."

I didn't hear her. I lay flat, staring at the acoustic tiles of the ceiling, counting the seconds.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The VIP suite was cavernous. A luxury hotel room disguised as a medical facility. It was so quiet I could hear the blood rushing through my ears, a rhythmic whoosh that sounded like the ocean I wasn't allowed to see.

My only companion was Link. The voice in my head. My savior and my executioner.

"Link," I whispered, my voice cracking. "They aren't coming, are they?"

I leaned back against the pillows, staring at the empty doorway.

"Probability is low," Link replied, his voice devoid of comfort. "They have rejected the medical data. They believe the diagnosis is a fabrication."

Link sigheda sound like static interference in my cortex. I almost laughed.

Fine. Let them believe what they want.

Silence stretched for a minute. Then, Link pushed again.

"Call them, Piper."

"If you do not secure a positive emotional interaction, the metastasis will accelerate. Surgery is irrelevant if the System initiates termination protocols."

My stomach clenched. A physical knot of dread.

I bit my lip until I tasted iron, then reached for the phone.

I dialed.

The line rang three times.

"Hello?"

It wasn't Conrad. It was Chelsea.

Her voice was bright, airy, vibrating with sunshine and happiness. A sharp contrast to the antiseptic gloom of my room.

"Piper? What's up?"

"I need to talk to Dad," I managed, my voice raspy.

"Oh! You want Daddy? Hang on a sec, he's out catching a wave."

Links voice spiked in my head. "Surfing? His daughter is on a deathbed, and he is surfing?"

"Illogical."

I waited.

I listened to the background noise on the other end. Seagulls. The crash of water. Laughter.

Daughter?

No. In their world, there was only one daughter. And she was on the beach.

Ten agonizing minutes passed before the phone shuffled.

"Piper."

Conrads voice. Breathless, likely from the exertion. But the tone wasn't warm. It was clipped. Stern.

"Have you realized your mistake yet?"

A dry, fractured laugh escaped my throat before I could stop it.

So thats it. The jealous sister narrative is the only legacy I leave behind.

"Piper, stop the theatrics. When you're ready to apologize, you can come home."

He didn't wait for a response. He barreled on, his voice rising.

"You've crossed a line this time. Having the hospital staff call your mother? Do you have any idea what you did? She nearly had a panic attack! Thank God Chelsea warned us it was just another one of your manipulative little stunts. We almost fell for it!"

My mouth opened, but my throat constricted. The words turned to ash on my tongue.

The silence on my end seemed to calm him, or maybe he just assumed hed won. His tone softened, patronizing and exhausted.

"Look, Piper. Just admit you lied. Come home, apologize, and you can still be our good girl."

Good girl.

I squeezed my eyes shut, a tear leaking out.

"Dad," I whispered, the words trembling. "What if... what if it's real? What if I'm actually sick?"

The line went dead silent. The ocean sounds faded into the background.

Then, Chelseas voice drifted in, faint but distinct.

"Oh, Daddy... she's just never going to change, is she? Its so sad."

That was the spark.

"Thats it!" Conrad exploded, his voice distorting through the speaker. "Piper! Who taught you to lie like this? You are pathological!"

Click.

The dial tone hummed in my ear.

Even Link went silent.

Outside the window, the sun dipped below the horizon. The last sliver of golden light vanished from my sheets, leaving the room in gray shadow.

Why?

The memories of six months agothe hugs, the tears, the "we owe you so much"was it all a performance?

The room grew colder.

Link finally spoke, his voice small.

"Warning: Negative emotional state impedes cellular recovery."

I grinned.

It was a gruesome, jagged thing.

Chapter 6

Recovery?

A bitter laugh bubbled up, dying before it reached my lips. There was nothing left to recover.

"Alternative strategy," Link droned, the algorithm processing my despair. "Return to the domicile. Admit fault. Survival is the priority. Where there is life, there is hope."

Then what?

Go back to that mausoleum of a house? Continue the dance with Chelsea? Apologize for sins I never committed just to receive their condescending lectures?

Id rather rot.

I sank deeper into the mattress, my muscles going slack. A dark, calm resolve settled over me.

"Link," I whispered mentally. "Accelerate the metastasis. Let it burn."

"Im terminating the mission."

The System paused. For the first time, the artificial voice sounded hesitant.

"Confirmation required. Voluntary mission abort results in a penalty: Ten years of consciousness displacement. You will be stranded in this timeline as a spectator."

"I accept."

I wanted that. I needed that