April Fool's Betrayal: A Sister's Revenge

"I'm pregnant."

Ashley Roberts announced, her hand resting smugly on her flat stomach, eyes on my brother.

It was April Fool's Day, but my parents weren't laughing.

They erupted in joy, celebrating their impending grandchild.

I stood by, a cold dread spreading through me.

This wasn't just déjà vu; it was a horrifying replay of my past life.

Ashley's fake pregnancy had been a trap, draining my parents' retirement for a luxury condo.

Then, she came for me, demanding $100,000.

"Sarah, you have to help," my mother had tearfully pleaded, "It's for your nephew! Don't you care about family?"

I' d caved, took loans, sold my car, and gave her every penny.

When her belly stayed flat, she faked a fall, blaming me for a "miscarriage."

Mark, blinded by grief and her lies, believed her.

He found me later, his eyes burning with rage.

He beat me, broke my bones, and left me for dead in a dark alley.

My last breath was a bitter regret: Why was I so weak?

Then, I woke up, back in my bed, on April Fool's Day.

A second chance.

Now, watching them fall for the same lie, a simmering rage replaced my fear.

This time, I wouldn't be financially stripped or manipulated.

"Sarah, did you hear that? Ashley needs some help. You' re the aunt, you have to chip in. It' s your duty."

My father nodded, "Your mother is right. We're all putting in our share. It's only fair."

They expected me to sacrifice myself again.

I put my coffee cup down.

"No," I said, my voice clear and steady.

The room fell silent.

"What did you just say?" my father asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"I said no. I'm not giving her a single dime."