The living room echoed with squeals and thundering footsteps as Ethan ran from a maniac. Emily vaulted over the couch, her inflatable sword whistling through the air, missing his ear by an inch.

  "You're dead!” Emily shouted.

  Ethan caught a glimpse of her over his shoulder—all boundless energy and fierce determination—looking so much like Mom, with her dark Tongan features and black wavy hair. Unlike Ethan, who walked the line between both worlds, neither fully light nor dark, a bridge between cultures that sometimes felt more like a chasm.

  The sword connected with his back, again and again, each strike punctuated by her shouts. "Take that! And that!" The plastic weapon caught him square on the rear, and he yelped, spinning around to catch it in mid-swing.

  One squeeze was all it took. The sword deflated with a sad wheeze. Emily's expression shifted from warrior princess to betrayed sister in an instant. Her eyes went wide, lips parting in shock as she stared at her fallen weapon.

  "You…you killed Sir Stabby!" But Emily wasn't one to admit defeat so easily. With a growl worthy of a tiger cub, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist, trying to wrestle him to the ground. For a ten-year-old, she had impressive strength—though not quite enough to overcome her fourteen-year-old brother. Their mother always said she’d got her fighting spirit from their grandmother, who'd raised seven kids as a single mom back in Tonga.

  "You won already," Ethan said, grinning as she tried to sweep his legs out from under him. A move she'd probably learned from those kung fu movies she loved so much.

  “No!” Emily just gritted her teeth, determination blazing in her eyes. "Not until I pin you down!"

  "Oh yeah?" He wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her up, throwing her on the couch. "Let's see how the mighty warrior handles the Tickles of Doom!” Her squeals of protest turned to uncontrollable giggles as he attacked her sides. It was a sound too rare these days, pure joy breaking through the tension that had settled over their home like a shroud. Ever since Dad had started working late, coming home with that distant look in his eyes…

  "Ethan!" Their mother's voice cut through the moment like a knife. She stood in the kitchen doorway, smoothing her blazer with trembling hands. The gesture was so familiar—she always did it when she was nervous, a habit from her days as a young immigrant trying to fit into a new culture.

  "They can stay." Dad appeared behind her, tall and blonde, with lines creasing his face. Ethan hadn't noticed them yesterday, but they seemed deep, etched by the strain of what he'd discovered at work—the scam his co-workers were running, the one he'd reported to his superiors despite the risks…despite knowing what it could cost them all.

  Emily hugged Ethan tight, burying her face in his shirt. He patted her back while studying their father over her head. Though Dad smiled, fear lurked in his eyes, clear as sunrise to anyone who knew where to look. The same fear Ethan had seen growing day by day, ever since the man made that fateful decision to speak up.

  "Come, Emily." Their mother held out her hand, heading for the backyard door, silver bracelets catching the light—Dad's anniversary gift from happier times. She gestured for Ethan to follow, but he stayed rooted in place, that nagging question finally clawing its way up his throat.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  "Why?" The word came out smaller than he'd intended, child-like. When Dad looked puzzled, Ethan pressed on, heat rising in his cheeks. "You didn't have to reveal them. You could have walked away, pretended you saw nothing. And what does it matter that they were scamming people, stealing money from patients? It wasn't you! You had nothing to do with it!” The words burst out of him like steam from a pressure cooker. The embezzlers had influence, connections. They could destroy Dad's career, hurt their whole family. Didn't he understand that?

  Dad crouched down, placing a heavy hand on Ethan's shoulder. His wedding ring caught the light—the simple gold band Mom spent months saving for, back when they first came to America. "Son," he began, choosing his words carefully, "sometimes the right choice isn't the easy choice… Sometimes, it requires sacrifice.”

  “That's stupid!" Ethan fought to keep his voice steady, aware of Emily watching with wide, frightened eyes. She always hated when they argued, would sometimes hide in her closet until the shouting stopped. "That's just what you said before!"

  "Do you remember in elementary school, when those boys were shoving your sister?"

  The memory sparked white-hot anger. Two bigger kids pushing Emily around by the monkey bars, and if Ethan hadn't been watching during recess… He'd gotten a black eye for his trouble, but seeing those bullies run away crying had been worth it.

  "Why did you help her?"

  "Because she's my sister," Ethan said, but Dad's gentle smile told him there was more.

  "I know many brothers who wouldn't. You helped because it was the right thing to do. And you were hurt, because of it.”

  Ethan's neck prickled, his heart pounding just remembering that protective surge, that absolute certainty when he'd seen Emily in danger. But this was different. This was bigger than a schoolyard fight.

  Still…

  "But how do you know?" Ethan whispered, unable to meet his father's gaze. "How do you know what's right? What if what you're doing, what you’ve done, isn't right?" His voice rose, cracking like thin ice. "How do you know that what you did won't hurt us?"

  Before Dad could answer, movement caught his eye. A sleek black car pulled up outside, its tinted windows reflecting the setting sun like mirrors. Three figures emerged in sharp suits, moving with the practiced grace of predators. One wore the gleaming NeuroSync crest on his lapel—the tech giant that controlled every hospital, every clinic in the state. Their presence should have been reassuring, but dread coiled in Ethan's gut like a poisonous snake.

  Dad's hand went ice-cold on Ethan's shoulder. "Take Emily outside," he said to Ethan, voice flat. "Don't come back until we call for you."

  Ethan hesitated, but his father's tense gaze brooked no argument. He guided Emily toward the back door, glancing back to see their parents straightening their spines, marching toward what awaited them. Mom's bracelets jingled softly as she reached for Dad's hand.

  Outside, Ethan watched through glass doors. Dad confronted the suited invaders. He looked calm, confident, and Ethan managed to believe everything would be okay.

  Ten minutes later, police sirens split the air.

  By the time Ethan and Emily threw open the doors, their father was already in handcuffs, blood trickling from his split lip. John T. Milwaukee—devoted father, honest man—watched his children with anguished eyes as officers led him away. One of the NeuroSync representatives stood on their front lawn, straightening his crest pin with manicured fingers while Mom sobbed into her hands.

  The man smiled with perfect teeth, resting a hand on her shoulder, his name badge glinting in the sunlight: T. K. Thompson—a devil in a suit.

  Ethan watched with clenching fists, body shaking.

  They'd taken everything that day: Dad's freedom, Mom's smile, Emily's childhood innocence, and instilled something in Ethan. Seeds, barbed and poisonous, festering deep within his soul, sprouting like wildflowers and rooting through his system until only one thing mattered.

  NeuroSync, that bastard of a company—Andrews, that bastard of a man—with all their masked facades and festering corruption needed to fall. Their outright injustice fueled the vengance of the young man, stoked the fires of rage inside. And one day, he’d make them pay. One day, he’d tear them apart, piece and piece.

  Even if it killed him.