Chapter 3

Adriana's POV

"She always said, 'As long as you're alive, life will get better.' She swore that with her own two hands she'd pull Mama and me out of the gutter this family came from. But three years ago, they told me she took her own life."

As I spoke, I held up a folded piece of paper into the lamplight.

"This," I said slowly, facing the camera, "is what they say she was clutching in her hand when she died. One sentence. It reads, 'Adriana, whatever you do, don't let them raise you up.'"

I drew a deep breath and went on. "I've kept this letter safe for three years and studied it over and over. The handwriting matches hers exactly. The Feds confirmed the only prints on it were hers. But I know she didn't write it. Someone forged her hand and left this farewell to seal the silence over what really happened. My sister didn't take her own life. She was executed."

The moment those words left my mouth, the whole stream recoiled. The chat flooded, question over question, disbelief stacked on disbelief.

[No way. Everyone the family honored died by their own hand—that's the story.]

[If the handwriting and prints match, how can you call it fake?]

[I was on that street when your sister went off the roof. I saw it with my own eyes.]

[Are you sure you're not just confused, kid?]

The feed scrolled too fast to follow, shock and denial and suspicion all bleeding together.

I didn't stop. My voice stayed steady, my words clean. "My sister never once called me by my christened name. Not out loud, not on paper. She always used my nickname. Yes, she went off that roof. But it wasn't her choice. She was made to. For three years I've dug into every one the family lifted up who supposedly 'ended themselves.' And I'll say it plain. Not one of those deaths holds together. The whole thing is a lie built to last. Every one of them was murdered."

The chat went wild again.

[This is insane. I've got chills all over.]

[Who the hell does this? And why? What kind of monster marks the ones who get honored?]

As their shock hammered the stream, I looked straight into the camera, my voice firm and unwavering. "I know none of them ended themselves. But I could never put my hands on proof. Whoever runs this is a master at burying the truth. So this time I gave it everything. I let them raise me up. I made myself the next name on the list, just to get close enough."

I said it without flinching. "They say the higher they lift you, the worse your death. So tonight I'm broadcasting this. I want every one of you to witness it with me. To watch whether I live or I don't."

There was no fear in my voice. Only purpose. My face said the rest, that I was ready to spend everything I had.

In that moment my words cut into people like a knife between the ribs.

Everything they thought they knew came apart.

The viewer count detonated. More poured in by the second. The whole territory was watching now.

Even the Feds were watching. And the moment they understood what was unfolding, they moved.

Sirens rose somewhere down the street, sharpening as they closed on my building.

And then something shifted.

The chat, so thick a moment ago with argument, collapsed into a single frantic line flooding the screen.

[Look behind you.]

[Behind you.]

[There's someone behind you.]

Reading it, I turned fast. My thumb found the inside of my wrist, pressing hard against the old scar.

And what I saw would haunt me for the rest of my life.