My foster sister deliberately used her own shellfish allergy to frame me, and the three brothers who once spoiled me rotten refused to hear a single word of my side. That night, they rushed her to the hospital while I suffered an asthma attack alone in the basement. But the rescue inhaler I reached for had already been replaced with pepper spray. I desperately called all three of my brothers for help. Not one of them answered. Three days later, they were still waiting for me to come home and apologize to her—until they found my body in the basement. What they didn’t know was that my ghost was standing right beside them, watching as the truth unraveled piece by piece, and as they finally realized one brutal fact: my foster sister was never the only one who killed me.
