Ethan Jane Novel The Unloved

At my funeral, my mother clawed at my portrait, finally seeing the stomach cancer diagnosis datethe same day I sold my kidney to buy my sister a diamond necklace.
My father sat frozen in his Rolls-Royce, gripping the report for my cryopreserved kidney. Outside, bodyguards forced Jane into a psychiatric van.
Their philosophy? Harden the son, spoil the daughter.
We were "struggling"so they claimed. To give Jane a princess life, we all worked endlessly. When she demanded a diamond necklace, my father nearly died hauling bricks, while my malnutrition led to terminal cancer.
To spare them, I sold my kidney for her gift. But returning home, I overheard the truth:
"Are we too harsh?" Mom wavered.
"Its training," Dad growled. "Ill return his kidney when he proves himself."
Jane added sweetly, "Being soft would ruin him."
Their poverty was a lie. Janes fragility, a ruse. They were leeches.
But they didnt know one thingI was already dying.

1
My father's words were like thunderclaps, exploding in my head. I doubled over, pressing my hand against the searing pain in my stomach.
He signed a check and handed it to my mother. "Get this to the owner of that back-alley clinic. Tell him to fill in any number he wants. He needs to leave the country and never come back. No loose ends."
My mother hesitated. "Don't be so sentimental," my father snapped. "It's that weakness that will be our son's downfall."
It was the end of the month, my payday.
My father glanced at the calendar and made a call. "You can come over now. And remember, make it look convincing. Don't hold back."
"He just lost a kidney," my mother ventured. "Shouldn't we let him rest for a few days?"
"What do you know?" he retorted, his voice thick with annoyance. "It's in moments of greatest hardship that a man's will is forged. If I don't shape him properly, how can I entrust him with my legacy?"
"Mom, Dad's right," Jane added. "You can't coddle him. You'll only make him weak."
I saw the designer dress she was wearing, the same one Id seen in a high-end boutique window just last week.
"Enough," my father said. He picked up the heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table and, with a sickening crack, smashed it against his own forehead.
My mother and Jane gasped, rushing to his side. "What are you doing? That's insane!"
Blood trickled down his temple, but his eyes gleamed with a feverish intensity. "I want to see what's more important to him," he panted. "His old man, or his money." He waved them away. "He'll be home any minute. Get ready."
I heard a car pull up outside. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Ethan, you're back?" my mother asked, her face a mask of concern.
I managed a choked "Yeah." This place, once my sanctuary, now felt alien and hostile. I placed the necklace box in front of Jane.
Her eyes widened, and she let out an exaggerated shriek of delight. "The necklace! Oh, Ethan, you're the best brother in the world! I love you so much!"
I clutched my aching side, forcing a pained smile onto my face.
My father watched me, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then, the front door was kicked open with a violent crash.
"Well, well, look who's here."
A group of menacing figures filled the doorway, led by a brute holding a thick metal pipe.
My father instantly transformed into a picture of terror, scurrying forward with a servile bow. "Spike, please, just give us a little more time. I swear, I'll have the money next month."
Spike grabbed my father by the collar and hauled him into the air. My mother dropped to her knees with a thud, tears streaming down her face. "Please, Spike, I'm begging you! We have nothing left. We've sold everything. My husband just had brain surgery; we haven't even paid the hospital bills yet!" She began to bow her head, knocking it against the hardwood floor again and again.
Spike's eyes landed on Jane, a greasy smile spreading across his face. "No money? A daughter will do just fine." He lunged, grabbing Jane from behind me.