Aubrey Jackson NovelAfter I Killed Myself, The Brother Who Hated Me for 5 Years Went Berserk.

It had been five years since I was kicked out, and I ran into my brother at a fancy bar.
He was the VIP, casually dropping thousands on Skylar, the daughter of a prominent family friend.
Me? I was just a bottle girl, working for commission based on how many bottles I sold.
All night, we pretended the other didn't exist.
Until I, deadpan, chugged two bottles of whiskey for a measly fifty dollars in tips.
Watching the color drain from my face, he pursed his lips and spoke, his voice ice-cold:
"You'd rather do this kind of work than come home and admit you were wrong?"
"Aubrey, you're really something."
I just gave a noncommittal smile, extending my hand toward him.
"Fifty dollars. Cash, or Zelle?"

Silence fell over the private room. Everyone stared at me, their expressions a mix of disbelief and amusement.
Someone snickered.
My brother, Jackson Brook, sitting on the plush sofa, instantly scowled.
He was embarrassed.
Fifty dollars. For someone like him, it wouldn't even cover a coffee.
But here I was, humiliating myself by chugging two bottles of top-shelf liquor.
Skylar, his socialite friend, sneered at me.
"Jackson's been waiting for you to come home. And this is what you're doing? Doesn't it feel dirty?"
I shot her a look. "It's honest work. What's dirty about it? I'm not selling myself."
She scoffed. "Are you that desperate for money? Drink two more bottles, and I'll add another fifty."
As her words hung in the air, the onlookers started egging me on.
"Drink it! If Skylar adds fifty, I'll add fifty too!"
"You add, I add! I'll throw in a hundred!"
Without hesitation, I reached for another bottle.
The door to the private room suddenly swung open. Mr. Davies, the manager, scurried in, a sycophantic grin plastered on his face.
He pushed me aside and asked Jackson, fawning:
"Mr. Brook, has our employee done something wrong?"
"Please don't be angry, sir. She can be a bit blunt. If she"
"Are you going to drink for her?"
Jackson cut him off coldly, his eyes slowly narrowing.
Sweat beaded on Mr. Davies' forehead.
He didn't want to stick up for me, but he also didn't want trouble if I collapsed from drinking. He chuckled nervously.
"That's too much alcohol, even for a grown man, let alone a young woman."
"Drink up, or get out!"
Jackson frowned impatiently, pulling a wad of bills from his wallet and slamming them onto Mr. Davies. "Fifty thousand dollars. Aubrey isn't going anywhere tonight. If you try to stop her again, this bar can forget about opening tomorrow!"
Mr. Davies fumbled to pocket the money, his face practically beaming.
He couldn't care less about me now. He mumbled a quick thank you and strode away proudly.
All eyes were on me again.
Jackson sneered. "What? Don't want the money anymore?"
I walked over, emotionless, grabbed a bottle, and chugged it down.
Having already downed two, my stomach was twisting in knots.
So this bottle went down slowly, drawing a fresh wave of mockery.
Jackson's face grew darker and darker.
As I finished one bottle and stumbled over to grab the next, he suddenly grabbed my wrist.
"Are you trying to kill yourself, Aubrey?!"
"I want the money."
I pulled my hand free, snatched the bottle, and poured it into my mouth.
I actually had a plan.
The lighting in the room was dim. I could pretend to lose my grip while drinking.
No one would notice if I spilled a little.
But just as I took a sip, a stinging slap landed hard across my face.
SMACK!
I froze, stunned, and the bottle slipped from my hand, shattering on the floor.
Jackson gritted his teeth, furious.
"For money, are you really that shameless?!"
"Stop drinking! Even if you die, I won't give you a cent!"
The alcohol hit me hard, and everything started to blur.
That voice, buried deep in my heart for five years, suddenly roared in my ears:
"You sold Mom's keepsake for money?! Did you lack for anything? Why didn't you just sell yourself instead?!"
"Get out! I don't have a sister anymore!"



Five years ago, Skylar royally screwed me over.
She stole Mom's mementoes from Jacksond sold them, then blamed it on me.
Jackson was furious, accusing me of selling them. He interrogated me non-stop about where I'd sold them, but I had no idea.
I told him it was Skylar's scheme, that she just hated how good he was to me.
But he just wouldn't believe me.
Stealing, disrespect, and stubbornness.
Each accusation hit a nerve with him.
With Skylar adding fuel to the fire, he confiscated all my money and kicked me out of the house.
For the first six months, I managed pretty well.
I found a sales job, enough to support myself with a little left over.
But after six months, everything changed.
Jackson called me for the only time in five years.
His first words were:
"Aren't you coming back to admit your mistake? Just tell me where you sold it, and I'll forgive you."
Stubborn, I roared back at him:
"I told you it wasn't me! Didn't you hear? Ask your 'good friend' Skylar, she's the one who sold it!"
Jackson hung up immediately. That same day, I was fired.
He spread the word throughout the entire city: anyone who dared to help me would be crossing him.
So, for the next few years, I couldn't find any legitimate work.
I could only do odd jobs in nightclubs.
He seemed to be doing it on purpose, not only boldly announcing Skylar as the sole heir to the company.