Rain stings my face as I stand before the mansion gates—the same iron bars that once confined me to a wheelchair under the guise of 'care'. My hands don’t shake anymore. My legs carry me forward. Inside, they’re celebrating Emily’s engagement. To Bryan. Again. As if I never existed. As if they didn’t sell my bone marrow for research, drain me until my heart stopped, then laugh beside my open casket.

I press the intercom. 'Tell Emily her dead sister wants to come in.'

The camera above flicks red. Silence. Then footsteps.

The gate begins to open.

Do I walk in calmly, playing the ghost they fear? Do I hack the estate’s systems first and watch them panic from the shadows? Or do I burn it all down—right here, right now—with the accelerant in my coat?