The Brothers Who Let Me Burn

A gas leak started a fire in the house. The flames closed in around me as I fought to make a call to my oldest brother, Stellan Fontaine.

Stellan, the fire chief, arrived with his crew. But the ladder truck stopped at my adopted sister Piper Prescott's window, where there was not even a trace of smoke.

"Piper's been timid since she was a kid. Get her down first!"

Clinging to the window frame, I begged him. "Stellan! The flames are almost on me!"

He did not even look up. "Immediate family gets evacuated last. That's the rule. Otherwise, I'd be using department resources for personal reasons."

As Piper, still wearing her clean nightgown, stepped onto the ladder, the flames swallowed the door behind me.

One second before the house exploded, I jumped from the third floor.

I shattered my right leg when I hit the ground.

Three minutes later, my second brother Garrett Fontaine's helicopter arrived. But the stretcher passed me and stopped in front of Piper, who had not suffered so much as a scratch.

"Quick! Get Piper to the Burn Center!"

Garrett came back and glanced at me. "Freya, I have to file a request with the company before I can use the helicopter for immediate family. You'll have to wait for an ambulance."
Chapter 1 Three Seconds Too Late
Forty minutes later, they finally got me to the hospital.
My third brother, Weston Fontaine, was the attending physician on duty that night. He glanced at me from behind the nurses' station. "I'm covering the ER tonight. If I let my own sister cut the line, how would that look? Have her check in and wait her turn. She can hold on until the morning shift arrives. Go see if Piper is in shock."
But they had all forgotten one thing.
Last year, I was diagnosed with early-stage lung adenocarcinoma.
After surgery, less than two-thirds of the affected lobe remained. My doctor had warned me again and again that I must never inhale irritating fumes or gases. With my lungs already compromised, respiratory failure could happen at any moment.
I tried to call for help, but the smoke had burned my throat raw. When I opened my mouth, all that came out was a faint, broken wheeze.
All I could do was lie there, slowly suffocating—dying silently right under their noses.
The moment Weston finished speaking, Florence Vance at the nurses' station froze. "Dr. Fontaine, forty minutes ago, you personally called and told us to prepare a private room in the ER and pull a burn-care kit for that girl…"
She flipped through the registration forms in her hands, confusion written across her face. "Her chart says she's your sister, too. You specifically told us to fast-track her. So, why does your other sister have to check in and wait her turn?"
Weston did not even frown. He cut her off immediately. "That's different. Piper isn't my sister by blood, so helping her isn't favoritism."
He calmly straightened the collar of his white coat. "But Freya is related to me by blood. I'm on duty tonight. If I let my own sister cut the line, what would people think?"
He spoke with such certainty that the nurses around the station exchanged bewildered looks.
One of the younger nurses leaned toward her coworker and whispered, "What kind of logic is that? He fast-tracked someone with no blood relation in the middle of the night, but left his own sister lying in the hallway?
"And did you see the girl who came in earlier? Her face was flushed, she was wearing a clean nightgown, and the moment they put her in a private room, she started scrolling on her phone."
She stole a glance at me, curled up on the stretcher. "Now, look at her. She's covered in soot, and her lips are practically black."
Garrett overheard them.
Without sparing me another glance, he turned coldly toward the nurses' station. "You don't know the whole situation, so don't go around making assumptions."
He paused. "Piper is the daughter of our family's former butler. Ten years ago, there was a fire at the Fontaine Estate. Piper's father, Mr. Prescott, carried the three of us brothers out of the fire one by one. He never made it out himself. He burned to death inside."
The hallway fell silent for a few seconds.
Garrett looked around, his voice growing heavier. "Piper's father died in that fire. She's been afraid of fire ever since. And now there's been another fire. She must be terrified. What's wrong with making sure we save her first?"
The nurses around us suddenly understood.
"So, that's what happened. That actually makes sense."
"Her father gave his life to save them. Of course they'd want to save her first."
"Now that you put it that way, Dr. Fontaine didn't do anything wrong."
I listened to them, tears spilling uncontrollably down my face.
It was true that Piper's father had died in that fire. But had my brothers forgotten?
Ten years ago, I was the one who stayed inside that burning house until the very end. I was three seconds away from being swallowed by the flames.
When I was taken to the hospital, the doctors said the heat had burned my lungs and airway.
Last year, during a follow-up examination, I was diagnosed with early-stage lung adenocarcinoma and underwent a lobectomy.
And Piper? When that fire happened, she was not even at the estate. She had not experienced that fire at all.
I wanted to tell them.
I desperately opened my mouth, trying to force the words out. But the smoke had burned my throat raw, and every time I tried to speak, all that came out was a faint wheeze.
The harder I tried, the tighter my chest felt, as if a hand were squeezing it. The little air left in my lungs was being forced out bit by bit.
My consciousness was slowly slipping away.
Just before I finally sank into darkness, Garrett happened to glance at me. His voice suddenly rose, a hint of panic in it for the first time. "Freya's face… What's wrong with her?"
Chapter 2 Can You Hear Me?
Weston hurried over. He turned my face toward him, and his eyes widened. "Freya? Freya!"
He pressed two fingers to my wrist, then lifted my eyelid and checked my eyes. "How do you feel? Tell me. Does anything hurt?"
I opened my mouth. My throat felt like it was packed with scorched cotton. My tongue moved, but no sound came out.
"Come on, say something!" Weston was getting frantic. He cupped my face in both hands. "What's wrong?"
I could not answer.
All I could do was clutch Weston's hand, digging my nails into his palm as I squeezed with everything I had.
Garrett came over, frowning. "Something's wrong. She really looks like she's trying to say something. We should get her checked out first."
Weston was about to answer when a voice came from the doorway. "Where did you guys go?"
Piper stood barefoot around the corner in the hallway, twisting the hem of her nightgown between her fingers. Her eyes were red.
"I woke up, and you were all gone. I was scared. Did you leave me again? Am I all alone again?"
Weston let go of my face.
All three of them turned and rushed toward her almost at once.
"Why did you come out here by yourself?"
"Did you get scared?"
"How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?"
Piper curled into Garrett's arms, her voice trembling. "Every time I close my eyes, I think about ten years ago. I see Dad dying in that fire."
Stellan reached over and gently stroked her head. "Don't be scared. We're here. We won't leave you alone."
Piper sniffed and peeked out from Garrett's arms, looking in my direction. "What about Freya? Don't you need to stay with her?"
Only then did they remember me.
Garrett glanced back at me. "She really does look like she's trying to say something."
I opened my mouth wide. A sweet, metallic taste flooded my mouth. My lips trembled violently, but only a breathy rasp escaped through my teeth.
The more I struggled, the more the burns deep in my throat seemed to tear open.
Weston frowned at me for a few seconds, then turned to Florence. "Florence, take her to—"
"Is Freya just upset?" Piper cut him off, her voice soft and gentle, as if she were trying to make excuses for me. "She's always been like this. It's really nothing. She just wants you guys to pay more attention to her."
She bit her lip, as if she hated to say it but felt she had to. "But she can't even say where it hurts. She's probably afraid you'll keep asking questions and realize she's pretending, so she's putting on this whole act."
Weston's expression changed. The hint of panic disappeared completely, replaced by impatience.
He finished what he had been saying. "Florence, take her to the end of the hall. Don't let her block the way here."
Florence bent down, released the brakes on my bed, and started pushing me farther down the hall.
I heard Piper's voice fading behind me. "Don't be mad at Freya. She's just scared. She'll be fine once she calms down."
As we passed the third hospital room, I summoned every last bit of strength I had left. Blood and air churned together in my throat, scraping across my raw vocal cords. "Help… me…"
The sound was so faint it was almost nonexistent, but the hallway was so quiet that everyone heard it.
Florence stopped pushing.
Everyone froze.
"Did Freya just… speak?"
Chapter 3 The Medical Records
Both of my brothers turned around. "What did she just say?"
Florence's voice tightened. "She said… 'Help me'."
Weston froze. So did Garrett.
Their eyes shifted to my face, then to Piper, as if they were trying to decide whether I had really said those two words.
Florence finally could not hold back.
"Dr. Fontaine, she's your own sister! You're in charge of this hospital. Look at her. Her lips are turning blue, and she's breathing rapidly. She's clearly in medical distress. And she just asked for help. Even if you're trying to keep things professional, this isn't how you do it."
She paused and glanced at Piper. "And your favoritism is getting pretty obvious."
Weston's expression darkened.
Before he could say anything, Piper spoke up. "Yes, exactly. She's right."
She nodded repeatedly, then caught Weston by the sleeve, looking remorseful. "You can't do this, Weston. Freya will be hurt. You should have someone take Freya in for a proper examination."
Weston was silent for two seconds before nodding. "All right. Florence, take her to the emergency room and have the doctor on duty—"
"Weston." Piper suddenly cut him off. "You've got it wrong. Freya should go to the surgical unit."
Weston paused. "The surgical unit?"
Piper blinked, her voice gentle and concerned. "Freya jumped from the third floor. There was landscaping below her that softened the fall, but she could still have a fracture. We should get some X-rays first, just to be safe."
Florence did not move.
She looked at Piper, then at me, and frowned. "She just came out of a fire and inhaled a lot of smoke. Shouldn't we check her breathing first? Why skip that and send her straight to surgery?"
Piper tilted her head. "Freya didn't inhale that much smoke. She stayed by the window the whole time. And she was able to call for help just now, so her airway should be fine, right? Besides, that fall from the third floor looked pretty bad…"
Florence started to argue again. "Ms. Prescott, you're not a medical professional. That decision should be left to—"
"Florence!" Weston cut her off, his voice firm. "Piper may not be a medical professional, but she knows the scene better than anyone. Freya was by the window the whole time. She couldn't have inhaled that much smoke."
He looked at Piper, then at me. "Piper has a point. Take her to the surgical unit first."
Stellan nodded beside him. "Piper's always so careful."
Garrett chimed in, "We can't afford to wait when it comes to a possible fracture. Get the X-rays first."
Florence opened her mouth, then closed it. The three brothers had already agreed. As a nurse, she had no grounds to argue further.
She bent down, released the brakes on my bed, and wheeled me toward the surgical unit.
Before we disappeared around the corner, I heard Piper behind us. "I feel better knowing Freya is in the nurse's care. Stay with me, okay? I'm really scared…"
…
As Florence checked me into the system, she entered my name and pulled up my medical records. She scrolled down twice, then stopped. "Freya Fontaine… She had major surgery a year ago?"
Chapter 4 No Tomorrow
A year ago, I was diagnosed with early-stage lung adenocarcinoma.
I wanted to tell my brothers, but before I could get the words out, Piper stopped me.
"Weston works at the hospital. If you have him do your surgery, people will say he's giving you special treatment again. I'll stay with you through it. Don't bother our brothers."
She stayed with me throughout my hospital stay, handled the paperwork, and took care of me after the surgery.
She was the only one who knew about my condition.
If my brothers saw this surgical record now, they would know my lungs were no longer healthy. They would understand what breathing in all that smoke meant for me.
Weston hurried over, about to pull up the full record. "How could that be? Let me see what kind of surgery it was—"
"Weston!" Piper's voice came from behind him.
She walked straight over to the computer, leaned in to look at the screen, then covered her mouth with a laugh. "You don't need to look. I know what it was!"
She turned to Florence, her tone light.
"I accompanied Freya for a minor procedure last year. She'd had too many manicures, and she ended up with an infected ingrown toenail. They took care of it in the outpatient clinic. It only took about ten minutes."
Florence frowned. "An ingrown toenail procedure wouldn't be flagged as major surgery."
"Maybe someone entered it wrong in the system?" Piper tilted her head, looking innocent.
"Either way, it was a really minor procedure. Freya even wanted Weston to do it for her. I told her Weston performs major surgeries every day. There was no reason to bother him over something as minor as an ingrown toenail."
Just then, Garrett appeared behind them.
Hearing Piper's last sentence, he reached over and patted her head. "Piper knows what's best. She knows not to bother us."
Florence was still staring at the screen. "Dr. Fontaine, I still think we should open the record and take a look at the details."
"No need." Weston moved the mouse away. "Piper said it was a minor procedure. The system probably flagged it incorrectly. Let's take care of the fracture first."
The X-rays came back soon after.
There was a minor fracture in my right ankle that needed to be set. Other than that, there were no other orthopedic injuries.
Piper was the first to lean over and look at the results. She immediately let out a relieved breath. "Thank goodness! Freya's okay!"
She turned to my brothers, her eyes slightly red. "I told you… The way Freya looked earlier, like she was barely hanging on, really frightened me. She must have been terrified and unable to speak. That's why she looked so bad."
She paused and cautiously glanced at Weston's face. "Weston… Don't blame Freya. She probably just really wanted you guys to stay with her. Why don't you stay with her tonight?"
Stellan hadn't even answered when Garrett shook his head.
"No. If Mr. Prescott hadn't carried us out of that fire with his life on the line, none of us would be here. No matter what, we're staying with you tonight."
Weston sighed too. "Freya only has a simple fracture. It's nothing serious. My shift ends in a few hours. I'll brief the doctor who's taking over."
Stellan glanced at me and smiled. "She's always been a little needy. Once the doctor takes care of her ankle tomorrow, I'll take her out for a nice meal to make it up to her."
Garrett then patted Piper on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you home so you can get some rest."
Piper obediently nodded, and soon the sound of her footsteps faded down the hall.
…
I lay on the gurney, each breath feeling like a needle stabbing through my lungs, which had less than two-thirds of normal function.
'You guys don't have to make it up to me tomorrow. Because I won't have a tomorrow.' With that, my consciousness slipped free of my body and floated weightlessly upward.
Looking down, I saw a girl lying on the hospital bed, her face covered in soot, her lips purple, her chest completely still.
…
The next morning, the doctor taking over the shift pushed open the door to the on-call room with Weston's handoff notes in his hand. "Dr. Fontaine specifically asked us to take care of his sister's fracture first. Where is she?"
Florence pointed toward the far end of the hallway.
The doctor walked over and bent down. "Freya Fontaine? I'm the doctor taking over your care—"
His voice cut off.
Three seconds later, his shout echoed through the entire floor. "The patient is dead! Why didn't anyone manage her airway?"
At the same time, Weston's phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID and breathed a sigh of relief. "It's the hospital. Caspian must be calling to tell me Freya's been taken care of…"
Before he could answer, Garrett's phone rang too.
Garrett picked up first.
The voice on the other end was stern. "Am I speaking with Mr. Fontaine? I'm with the Major Crimes Unit of the city police department. We've been reviewing the old case file from the fire at your family's home ten years ago, and we've found some discrepancies…"