My Mother Killed Me For Her Stepdaughter novel Chapter 72

But this time, the kidnappers miscalculated.

By the time they managed to contact my brother again, his phone had already been broken. The police had tracked their calls and captured the ruthless group of criminals.

During the investigation, my brother was called in for questioning.

When the officer asked, "The victim was your biological sister, right?" his gaze suddenly sharpened. "What are you trying to say?"

"According to the recovered data from the victim's phone, she made 33 calls to you, all within minutes of being kidnapped."

They had restored the data—and the call recordings.

The officer pulled my phone from the evidence bag, tapped a button, and my desperate, heart-wrenching screams for help echoed through the empty interrogation room.

My cries—one after another—bounced off the walls, reverberating through the space like pieces of my shattered soul haunting every corner.

My brother clutched his ears. "No! That's not Sophia… it's not her!"

"My sister is only 22. She just graduated college. She has dreams… She hasn't even gotten married yet. How could she be dead?!"

He was hysterical, screaming, completely out of control. The officers tried to calm him down, but nothing worked.

Finally, an older detective slammed his hand on the table, scolding him sharply. "Now you're sorry? Where was this regret before?"

"Your sister called you so many times, begging for help. The kidnappers called for ransom. Even her college professor told you to file a police report!"

"So what did you do?""

"The kidnappers raped your sister, cut her into pieces, and those sick bastards filmed the whole thing!"

"She could have been saved, but you kept missing every chance to rescue her!"

My brother gasped for air, sobbing uncontrollably as he collapsed onto the interrogation table, mumbling over and over, "It's my fault... I killed Sophia... It's my fault..."

In the end, he made one request: to see me one last time.

The older detective hesitated. "You shouldn't. She went through hell, and even the coroner lost it when they saw her for the first time. You—"

"I need to see her! She's my sister!"

I watched from the side, cold and detached, feeling nothing but bitter irony.

I had spent my whole life desperately trying to fit into this family, trying to get him to acknowledge that I was his sister, his only blood sister.

But all he ever cared about was Emily.

He rambled on about our childhood, but I didn't want to hear a single word of it.

"Even though, at first, I thought you were taking my sister's place, over time, I started to see who Emily really was."

"I wanted to make it up to you, but Emily was already too far gone. You grew up strong without our love, and I thought strict discipline was enough. That if I just watched over you and kept you in line, you'd turn out fine, right?"

So that's what he thought all along?

No love, no warmth, just harsh discipline and emotional neglect. That was his version of "fine."

Back in the morgue, my brother kept talking, as if I were still cold, even pulling the white sheet higher to cover me.

But as he moved the sheet, my arm slipped out from under it, fully exposed.

The pale, bluish skin, and the countless black stitches crisscrossing where my neck met my body...

"No—!!"

His scream was the sound of pure agony, like a wounded animal.

The detectives rushed in, holding him down before he could break me further, sparing my mutilated body from being violated one last time.