I Died—Now My Family Has to Beg / Chapter 2: Return to the House of Lies
I Died—Now My Family Has to Beg

I Died—Now My Family Has to Beg

Author: Susan Rodriguez

Chapter 2: Return to the House of Lies

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When I opened my eyes, I was back. Same day. The day they brought me home.

The shock of it nearly knocked the wind out of me. The same sterile light, the same polite smiles, the same sense of walking into a trap. But this time, I knew. I wasn’t that scared, hopeful kid anymore. I clenched my fists and steeled myself, determined to play by my own rules this time.

Dad was about to hand me the keys. Carter, the golden boy, laughed and said, “Hey, Nate, what an awesome gift.”

Carter didn’t even try to hide the sarcasm. Or the smirk. He tossed his hair back, like he was on The Bachelor or something, playing to an invisible audience. For a moment, I wondered if anyone else noticed the venom in his tone—but they all just smiled along, pretending everything was normal.

“You can’t let Dad’s thoughtfulness go to waste. Hurry up and move in.”

He leaned against the banister, arms crossed, looking every bit the bored rich kid. I could almost see the headlines: Local Hero Welcomes Lost Brother. If only they knew the truth behind that picture-perfect grin.

This time, no gratitude. No excitement. Just a wicked smile. “If you think this guest house is so great, Carter, you can have it. Consider it a welcome gift.”

My voice was steady, almost playful, but there was steel underneath. I watched Carter’s face for the first flicker of confusion. I didn’t owe him—or any of them—my gratitude anymore. The game had changed, and I was finally ready to play.

Carter hated that I was back. It showed in every glare.

He couldn’t hide it. His jaw clenched, and he shot me a glare sharp enough to cut glass. For a second, I almost felt sorry for him—almost. But then I remembered every smug laugh, every careless insult, and the pity faded fast.

He knocked over a potted maple tree in the yard.

The little tree—probably some expensive landscaping piece—crashed to the ground with a dull thud, scattering dirt across the perfect green lawn. Carter didn’t even look back. He just kept walking, like the mess didn’t matter, like nothing ever stuck to him for long.

He kicked an antique vase. It shattered across the floor.

Porcelain shards exploded across the hardwood floor, the sound echoing through the house. A few guests flinched, but nobody said a word. Carter just shrugged and moved on, leaving chaos in his wake. If anything, he seemed pleased with himself.

Carter was the Ellison family’s little prince. Spoiled, coddled, willful. Always got his way.

He’d always been the center of their universe. Every tantrum was met with a gentle word, every mistake brushed aside. It wasn’t just favoritism—it was worship. He wore it like a crown, daring anyone to challenge him.

Mrs. Ellison didn’t even scold him. She just gently coaxed, “Alright, stop throwing a fit. You know we didn’t have a choice.”

Her voice went all soft, the way you talk to a toddler. She smoothed Carter’s hair, ignoring the mess behind him. For a moment, I wondered if she even saw me standing there, or if I was just another piece of broken pottery to sweep away.

Carter pointed at her and growled, “Then you can’t play favorites with him. Even if he’s your real son, you can’t! Even if he’s your real son!”

His voice cracked, and for the first time, there was real panic in his eyes. He clung to Mrs. Ellison’s arm, as if afraid I might steal her away. The irony was almost too much to bear.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re the apple of my eye. How could I not dote on you?”

She cupped his cheek. Her eyes shone with adoration. The whole scene felt rehearsed, like a play they’d performed a hundred times. I stood there, invisible, watching them circle each other in a dance I’d never be part of.

She had to win me over, but pretending to care was apparently too much work.

She didn’t even try to hide it. Every gesture, every word was for Carter. I was just a problem to be solved, a box to be checked. It was almost impressive, the way she managed to ignore me even when I was standing right in front of her.

In my last life, I was too swept up in the excitement. My birth father gave me a new house the moment I arrived. I never paid attention to their conversations.

Back then, I just wanted to belong. I missed every warning sign.

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