Chapter 3: The Price of a Miracle

Four years ago, after a tense family meeting, I was told to find a woman who could take my sister’s place.

We sat around the kitchen table, voices low and tense, the weight of what we were planning pressing down on all of us. Dad looked older than I’d ever seen him. Mom just kept wringing her hands, eyes red from crying. Nobody wanted to say it out loud. In the end, it was decided: I’d be the one to do it. I was the oldest, and Emily trusted me most.

I searched for four years and still couldn’t find anyone I could bear to sacrifice.

Every time I thought I’d found someone—someone desperate enough, someone cruel enough—I’d get close, then lose my nerve. I’d see a flash of kindness, a glimmer of hope, and I’d back out. I couldn’t bring myself to play God with someone else’s life, no matter how much I loved my sister.

I want Emily to live, but I can’t just ruin someone else’s life. I just can’t.

Some nights, I’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I was just as bad as the curse itself. If saving one life meant destroying another, was it worth it? Could I live with myself afterward?

If I had to choose, it’d be someone who’s already done a lot of wrong, someone who deserves it. If that kind of person even exists. But women like that aren’t easy to find.

I’d watch the news, scroll through stories of scammers and thieves, but when it came down to it, I just couldn’t do it. I kept hoping fate would send me someone who fit the bill, but real life doesn’t work that way.

As my sister’s birthday crept closer, my mom grew more desperate. I could see it in the way she started leaving notes on my pillow—lists of names, ideas, anything she thought might help. The house felt colder, quieter. She’d stare at Emily like she was already a ghost.

"Just bring that Kayla home. Your sister comes first. Always."

She cornered me in the kitchen one night, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know you care about her, but this is your sister we’re talking about. We can’t let her die."

The Kayla Mom meant was my girlfriend.

Kayla was this whirlwind—funny, flirty, always sending me memes and asking about my day. We’d talk for hours, sometimes all night. But every time I tried to meet in person, she’d have an excuse. I wondered if she was real, or just another dream slipping through my fingers.

Ever since Mom saw Kayla dodging real-life meetups and sending me photos of designer handbags every day—hinting for gifts—she was sure I’d fallen for a scam.

Mom would sigh and shake her head whenever a package arrived, muttering about gold diggers and city girls. She thought Kayla was just using me, that I was being played for a fool.

She’d even printed out articles about online scams, leaving them on my desk like I wouldn’t notice. Dad just kept quiet, but I could tell he was worried too.

She kept pushing me: bring Kayla home, save your sister.

Every dinner ended with the same plea: "Just bring her here, Mason. Let’s do what needs to be done."

But I always brushed her off. I just couldn’t do it.

I’d make excuses, say Kayla was busy, or that she wasn’t ready to meet the family. Deep down, I knew I was stalling. I didn’t want to believe I’d have to choose.

Sure, Kayla’s a bit materialistic, but she’s hardworking, clever, and honestly, she’s pretty sweet.

She’d tell me stories about her long shifts, about the customers who tried to grope her or stiff her on tips. She’d send me pictures of her bruised feet, laugh about her coworkers, and ask about my day. It was easy to forget about the bags and the money when she was just being herself.

She doesn’t deserve to lose her life for a stranger.

I’d look at her photos, read her messages, and wonder if I was making a huge mistake. She just felt real to me. I didn’t want to be the reason she disappeared.

Eventually, my mom lost patience. She snapped.

She slammed her fist on the table, eyes blazing. "Enough, Mason. We can’t wait any longer."

"Meet her, find out what she’s really about. If she’s genuine, we won’t hurt her. But if she’s a scammer, you have to bring her home for your sister’s sake."

Her words cut through me. It wasn’t just about Emily anymore—it was about what kind of person I was willing to become.

My mom’s words finally got to me, and I nodded, agreeing to the plan.

I felt sick to my stomach, but I forced myself to smile and promise I’d do what needed to be done. The decision felt like a stone in my chest.

I reached out to Kayla, insisting we meet up. She kept refusing, but when I offered four Coach bags if she’d meet, she finally caved.

I could almost hear her gasp through the phone. She sent a flurry of heart emojis, her excitement barely contained. I wondered if she even realized what she was agreeing to.

"I wanted to wait until we were more serious, but I didn’t think you’d be so eager. I love you so much—I can’t let you down."

Her words felt rehearsed, but there was a hint of real feeling behind them. Or maybe I just wanted to believe there was.