Stretcher 58

Two weeks went by.

Lila’s follower count was pathetic.

Didn’t matter how much money she blew on promo packages, nothing worked.

She started spiraling.

On my way home from work one night, I saw a flood of missed calls from her.

I sat down on a bench, took my sweet time, then finally called her back.

“Chloe, you screwing with me?!”

“I trusted your bullshit and ate nasty–ass seafood–made me sick, and nobody even watched!”

“You bitch, you just don’t wanna see me succeed, huh?!”

She didn’t even take a breath before unloading on me.

Typical.

When she needed something, she was sugar–sweet.

Piss her off, and I was her mortal enemy.

Not that it was surprising.

I wasn’t even her real sister–just the adopted kid.

Of course she looked down on me.

But last time, I’d been stupid enough to think love could melt her hate.

I believed if I kept giving, they’d finally see I only wanted the best for them.

Instead, in her eyes, I was nothing more than the help–some servant she could boss around.

I forced a smile into my voice, kept it calm.

“Don’t get upset. Maybe it just isn’t eye–catching enough.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

I shared a viral video with her.

On screen, a cute girl in a cat costume smiled sweetly at the camera.

Then she picked up a cup of thick gray sludge and chugged it like a shot of tequila.

Lila went quiet. Then, finally:

“… What the hell is this?”

I spoke softly.

“Try blending the seafood into a drink. Slam it down on camera.”

“People are stressed these days–they crave crazy, shocking content.”

00:19

Chapter 3

“And hardly anyone’s tried this lane yet. If you pull it off, you’ll be unforgettable.”

“Imagine it–every food video, people will think of you. That’s traffic. That’s money.” This text is hosted at find·novel·net

Lila snorted.

“Easy for you to say. Why don’t you drink it? Looks disgusting as hell.”

I sighed, letting a little guilt drip in.

“Lila, I’m the one paying for your groceries right now.”

“I’m counting on you to blow up, sis–what’s that supposed to mean, doubting me?”

“And come on, I’m a nutritionist. I’d never hurt you.”

“I believe in you. Soon you’ll have millions of followers, rolling in cash.”

The flattery worked–her voice softened.

With work keeping me busy, I didn’t see her again for two months.

When I finally did, she looked ghastly–pale, rail–thin, like her stomach was eating itself.

Her jawline, though, had widened–classic sign of stomach damage.

My gut twisted.

This wasn’t good.

Sara Lili

Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.