The System's Cruelest Game

The System's Cruelest Game

Gavin

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My younger brother, Leo, died in the emergency room, a casualty of our parents'twisted "tests." For years, "system prompts" had controlled our lives, confirming that Leo and I were mere side characters in our adoptive brother Ashton's "golden-boy" narrative. The ultimate test arrived when our parents refused to pay for Leo's emergency treatment after Ashton knowingly gave him a peanut cookie, triggering his fatal allergy. The system grimly confirmed: "Allergen exposure by Subject Ashton: successful. Test parameters met." In the wake of Leo's death, my desperate attempts to raise cremation funds were sabotaged, and family accusations of fraud and dramatization poisoned my name. Ashton publicly smeared me, claiming I faked Leo's death, while my father imposed an impossible financial task that he systematically undermined. I was even abducted, drugged, and forced to sign away my inheritance, every path blocked. But the final, unbearable cruelty struck when Ashton live-streamed an exposé, accusing me of using  "fake ashes"  at Leo's memorial. My own father ripped open the small pouch I'd kept, scattering Leo's last physical trace to the winds as my mother screamed, calling me a "sick, attention-seeking monster." How could they be so cruel, so relentlessly focused on destroying me, even after Leo's death? As I collapsed, shattered, the live-stream viewers finally saw their monstrous deeds, prompting police intervention and ending their twisted game. Now, as the system prompts falter and Ashton faces justice, I am finally free to reclaim my life, guided by Leo's memory.

Introduction

My younger brother, Leo, died in the emergency room, a casualty of our parents'twisted "tests."

For years, "system prompts" had controlled our lives, confirming that Leo and I were mere side characters in our adoptive brother Ashton's "golden-boy" narrative.

The ultimate test arrived when our parents refused to pay for Leo's emergency treatment after Ashton knowingly gave him a peanut cookie, triggering his fatal allergy.

The system grimly confirmed: "Allergen exposure by Subject Ashton: successful. Test parameters met."

In the wake of Leo's death, my desperate attempts to raise cremation funds were sabotaged, and family accusations of fraud and dramatization poisoned my name.

Ashton publicly smeared me, claiming I faked Leo's death, while my father imposed an impossible financial task that he systematically undermined.

I was even abducted, drugged, and forced to sign away my inheritance, every path blocked.

But the final, unbearable cruelty struck when Ashton live-streamed an exposé, accusing me of using "fake ashes" at Leo's memorial.

My own father ripped open the small pouch I'd kept, scattering Leo's last physical trace to the winds as my mother screamed, calling me a "sick, attention-seeking monster."

How could they be so cruel, so relentlessly focused on destroying me, even after Leo's death?

As I collapsed, shattered, the live-stream viewers finally saw their monstrous deeds, prompting police intervention and ending their twisted game.

Now, as the system prompts falter and Ashton faces justice, I am finally free to reclaim my life, guided by Leo's memory.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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