Unmasked: The Dummy's Deadly Payback

Five years ago, an accident chained me to a hospital bed for two years. When I finally opened my eyes, my brain was gone. I was left with the mental capacity of a toddler.

Duane dumped spoiled leftovers onto my plate. I gave him a wide, empty grin and knocked the bowl over, smearing rotting food across the floor.

Kensington would pinch my arms black and blue, telling everyone we were just playing. I would just clap my hands and babble happily while she dug her manicured nails into my skin.

Parker and Kensington even started making out right in front of my face.

I just sat there and watched them, letting thick drool run down my chin. "She's braindead," they finally concluded.

With me out of the way, Parker and Kensington officially paraded around as the perfect couple.

Duane drained every last cent from my mother Eleanor's estate—money that rightfully belonged to me.

They fed off the perks of my tragedy like parasites, yet despised me for being a useless burden, punishing my existence with quiet, daily torture.

But there was one tiny detail they missed. I got my sanity back a year ago. Chapter 1 "You little jinx. You definitely touched my watch yesterday.

No wonder I lost so much money today!" Duane's heavy hand cracked across my shoulder blades. I stumbled forward, my knees slamming into the hardwood.

The sharp edge of the coffee table stopped barely half an inch from my temple. My throat clicked as I swallowed down a spike of raw panic. Adjust.

I flipped onto my backside, pasting a wide, vacant grin across my face. I grabbed Duane's sleeve, clapping my hands. "Fun! More!

Daddy… push… push Celeste!" "Why are you getting mad at a literal retard?" Kensington crouched in front of me.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear with sickening gentleness, then shoved a glass of milk into my hands. "Be a good girl, Celeste.

Time for your milk." "Okay, good sister! Milk time!" I clapped and took the glass. The second the thick liquid hit my tongue, the rancid, sour stench of rot coated my throat.

My stomach heaved, but I clamped my jaw shut and forced it down. I had to play the perfect idiot.

It was my only way to survive in this house. "I really never get tired of looking at you like this." Watching me chug the expired milk, Kensington pinched my cheek, her manicured nails digging deep into my skin until a vicious smirk curled her lips.

Pain flared. I just stretched my vacant smile wider. Then, I coughed, spraying a mouthful of curdled milk right into her face. "Sister! Messy! Hahaha!

Messy!" Kensington let out an earpiercing shriek, wiping frantically at her dripping face while my idiot laughter echoed through the room.

This had been my daily reality ever since I woke up in that hospital bed three years ago.

Five years ago, a catastrophic car crash left me in a coma and killed my mother, Eleanor, on impact.

For the first two years, my stepfather Duane kept paying my medical bills just to keep up appearances.

He had already hijacked the company my mother built from the ground up and inherited her entire estate. Pulling the plug on me back then would have been a PR nightmare.

But aside from covering the bare minimum hospital fees, he never hired a single nurse to look after me.

It was Doris, my mother's old housekeeper, who stayed by my bedside and took care of me without taking a dime. When I first opened my eyes, the brain damage was severe.

I was a twentysevenyearold woman trapped with the mental capacity of a kindergartner. Duane's daughter, Kensington, was a nobody streamer at the time.

She immediately weaponized my tragedy, dragging me onto her live streams to play the devoted, heartbroken sister. The internet ate it up.

The views skyrocketed, and the money rolled in. High on her new fame, she played the loving caretaker on camera, only to torture me the second the ring light clicked off.

As for my exboyfriend, Parker? He seamlessly transitioned into the role of my new brotherinlaw, putting on sickeningly sweet PDA displays with Kensington right in front of me.

Maybe it was a medical miracle, or maybe it was just Doris's relentless care, but under the daily abuse of Duane and Kensington, my brain actually healed. I got my sanity back.

But I kept my mouth shut. I was waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment to drag Duane and Kensington straight to hell.

Because the blood on their hands went far deeper than anyone knew. A month ago, a family emergency pulled Doris back to her hometown. When she was around, I at least had hot meals.

Without her, I was reduced to picking through their cold leftovers. In this house, I wasn't allowed at the dining table.

So, for the past year since my recovery, I played the drooling idiot. I dodged their physical blows, scavenged for calories, and stayed invisible.

More importantly, I spent every waking second hunting for the paper trail of their crimes.

I just needed the final pieces of the puzzle to deliver a kill shot and take back everything they stole from me and my mother.

Chapter 2 I sat crosslegged on the balcony tiles, squishing wet potting soil between my fingers. Parker had dropped a small fortune on this rare orchid just to kiss Duane's ass.

What a joke. He didn't realize Duane was a vulgar, uneducated brute.

The polished, gentlemanly facade Duane wore was just a PR spin my mother, Eleanor, had engineered so he could land clients and claw his way into high society.

He didn't know the first thing about elegance. To him, a tenthousanddollar orchid was just another weed. A heavy hand grabbed a fistful of my hair.

A sudden yank ripped me backward, sending me crashing onto the hard floor. The sickening stench of cheap liquor washed over my face. Duane was drunk again.

Since Mom died, Duane had burned through the cash reserves. The company was bleeding out year after year. Add in his gambling addiction and the booze, and the money vanished fast.

Sometimes he even had to leech off Kensington's livestream earnings to stay afloat. A literal parasite. "Daddy, Celeste hurts!

It hurts!" I sprawled on the floor, whining and repeating the infantile script. "Hurts, hurts, Daddy blow on it. Make it better." Duane went dead silent.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up under the heavy weight of his stare. "I'm sorry, Daddy's bad." He suddenly squatted down.

His eyes were bloodshot, glassy with a dark intent. His rough, clammy hand clamped onto my bare shoulder. "Daddy will rub it.

Make the pain go away." My heart slammed against my ribs and stalled. Bile clawed its way up my throat. I had almost managed to block out the memory of him touching me before.

He had only stopped because Kensington caught him and threw a fit, forcing him to dial back his creeping hands.

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper, forcing back the nausea.

I plastered on a bright, empty smile and grabbed his thick fingers. "Daddy, play… pattycake… pattycake…" "Come on.

Let's play inside." He yanked me up by the wrist and dragged me toward the bathroom. "Oh, my poor girl! What are you doing in here!" The bathroom door slammed open.

Doris stood in the doorway, stepping in right as Duane's hands moved for the hem of my shirt.

I grabbed the showerhead, giggling like a maniac as I sprayed freezing water everywhere. "Doris! Doris!

Play… play in the water… splash!" Doris shot a razorsharp glare at a suddenly awkward Duane, then rushed over and pulled me into a fierce hug. "Mr.

Duane, how could you let her play in the water? It's freezing today!" "She was throwing a tantrum for it. Good thing you're back. Take her." Duane's face drained of color.

He bolted out of the bathroom like a scolded dog. "Are you okay? Celeste, look at me.

Does anything hurt?" Doris patted me down, her hands shaking as she checked my arms. "No…" "Did he touch you anywhere? Did he try to take off your clothes?

Tell me the truth, don't be scared. I'm right here." Tears pooled in Doris's eyes, her voice cracking under the strain. A sharp ache clamped down on my chest.

I threw my arms around her neck, burying my face in her shoulder while I kept up the idiotic babble. "Celeste is okay.

Celeste missed… missed Doris…" Doris let out a muffled sob, holding me tighter. Doris was my mother's old housekeeper.

Years ago, my mom had pulled her from the brink of a lifethreatening illness. Ever since then, Doris had poured her entire life and soul into taking care of Mom.

After the accident, she just transferred that fierce, unwavering loyalty to me. I knew damn well that if I was going to tear this family apart, Doris would be my greatest ally.

She was the only person in the world I could trust. But I was torn. Should I drag her into this bloodbath?

She could have taken the retirement fund my mother left her and lived out her golden years in peace.

Instead, she had chained herself to my side to repay a debt she felt she owed, trapping herself in this hellhole for years. Chapter 3 I swallowed a silent sigh.

Today was Kensington's live stream day. She forced me to hold a cardboard sign that read: I am mentally disabled. Please help me.

After standing there like a prop for half an hour, my legs gave out. I let out a loud, wailing cry.

The live chat instantly exploded. [Is she just milking her sister for views?] [She doesn't even care about her! Look at the poor girl!] Panic flashed across Kensington's eyes.

She yanked me into a suffocating hug, her acrylic nails digging viciously into the meat of my thigh right out of the camera's frame. "You love your big sister, don't you, Celeste?" I babbled nonsense for a few seconds, letting fat tears spill over my eyelashes as I nodded.

I threw my arms around her neck. "Love sister the most!

Celeste loves sister the most!" The second the camera clicked off, Kensington grabbed me by the ear and hauled me out to the living room. "Dad, when the hell can we ditch this jinx?

She's so annoying!

She almost ruined my stream today." I curled into a tight ball in the corner, violently shivering while I mumbled over and over, "Jinx… jinx…" "You think I don't want to?" Duane took a slow sip of his tea, shooting me a look of pure disgust. "We have to figure out where her mother hid that trust fund first!" That was the punchline.

The only reason Duane hadn't dumped me in an asylum over the last five years was because of that phantom money.

It was the absolute last sentence my mother, Eleanor, gasped out to him before she died. "We've tried every method in the book for years, and we still have zero leads." Kensington sighed heavily, leaning back into Parker's chest.

He always played the dutiful assistant whenever she went live. "Did Celeste's mom lie?

What if the money doesn't even exist?" Parker tossed the question out casually, glancing down at me. "Impossible.

Knowing Eleanor, she definitely left a safety net for her precious only daughter," Duane fired back. Funny enough, Parker actually hit the nail on the head.

There was no secret fortune. It was just a desperate bluff my mother fabricated so Duane wouldn't immediately pull the plug on me.

I ducked my head, letting my unfocused gaze drift around the room while I chanted, "Mommy, Mommy." My eyes dragged over the shadows of the kitchen.

Doris stood there, perfectly still. By the look of it, she had been watching me for a long time. Kensington and Parker left for some influencer party later that evening.

Duane immediately sent Doris out on a fabricated errand. Tonight, it was just me and him. I sat on the living room rug, stacking wooden blocks.

Heavy footsteps stopped right behind me. A thick, clammy hand dropped onto my shoulder. I twisted around, giving him a blank, drooling smile. "Daddy.

Love Daddy." "Does Celeste really love Daddy?" Duane stroked my hair, his fingers lingering on my scalp. "Then how about you help Daddy take a bath?" "No bath, no bath!

Celeste doesn't like baths!" I thrashed my head back and forth, scrambling on all fours to crawl away. A hand clamped around my ankle like a vice.

He dragged me backward across the carpet. "Good girls always help their daddies in the bath.

Isn't Celeste the best girl?" "Good… Celeste is good…" He hauled me into the claustrophobic bathroom.

I bit my tongue hard enough to taste blood, forcing down the violent wave of nausea clawing at my throat.

I kept my idiotic smile frozen in place as I watched Duane peel off his clothes, piece by piece. "Bath time, bath time…" "Let Daddy help you take your clothes off, okay?" The suffocating stench of stale tobacco and cheap liquor blasted against my face.

He reached out. His rough fingers brushed against my chest. Chapter 4 Tremors racked my body. The copper taste of bile flooded the back of my throat.

Then, a shrill, deafening screech tore through the house. The smoke alarm. "Fire! The kitchen is on fire!" Doris slammed the bathroom door open. She didn't look down.

She didn't look at Duane. She just grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward. "Run!" We stood on the sidewalk with a crowd of shivering neighbors. Duane hovered right next to us.

His jaw muscles feathered as he glared at Doris, but he swallowed his rage in front of the audience. The fire department arrived in minutes.

They cleared the smoke, checked the stove, and drove off. "Doris, you're getting up there in years.

You almost burned the whole house down just boiling water." Duane flashed a stiff, plastic smile at the housekeeper, who still had her arms wrapped tight around me. "Maybe it's time you retire early." "My deepest apologies, Mr.

Duane. I got a call about my dog biting the neighbor again, so I completely forgot the stove.

It absolutely won't happen again," Doris matched his fake smile perfectly. "I'm so used to taking care of Celeste. I'm not in any rush to retire.

Besides, it's not like you're paying me a salary, right?" "The house needs someone to keep an eye on things. I can do a few more years, no problem." Duane choked on his next words.

He muttered a string of curses under his breath, snatched his car keys, and stormed out the front door. Doris walked to the window. She watched his headlights fade down the street.

Then, she turned back, walked right up to me, and crouched down. She opened her palm.

A tiny pinhole camera sat right in the center of her hand. "Celeste, you planted this, didn't you?" "Doris." I dropped the vacant grin.

The muscles in my face relaxed into their natural state. I let out a dry, exhausted exhale. "You caught me." "Oh, my sweet girl!" Doris let out a broken sob.

She threw her arms around me and wept, her tears soaking right through my shirt. "I was deep cleaning the other day and found the lens hidden inside the power strip.

I had a feeling it was you." Doris wiped her eyes. She explained how she had deliberately pulled the wire out just a fraction of an inch, waiting in the shadows.

She finally confirmed her theory when she caught me huddled in the corner, fixing the exposed wire. "You really got your mind back… Thank God. Eleanor is watching over you.

She really protected her only child…" I knew the hell Doris had endured in this house for my sake. Duane and Kensington only tolerated her because she was free labor.

They never fired her, but they treated her like absolute dirt. "Celeste, let me help you." Doris gripped my hands, her skin warm and calloused. "I knew from day one that the car crash wasn't an accident.

It was those two." "Duane was drowning in gambling debt back then, and Eleanor was already drawing up the divorce papers. He wanted your mother's money.

That's why he killed her." "You've suffered enough for me, Doris." I squeezed her hands back. "Karma is coming for them." "We are going to get justice for Mom.

And then we are going to send them straight to hell." With Doris operating as my inside man, my plans accelerated.

Instead of scrambling to hide evidence under loose floorboards, I handed everything off to her. She kept the files secure and slipped them to me whenever I needed them.

I didn't have to sneak out of my bedroom window at 3 AM just to hit a 24hour gym anymore. Doris fabricated daily errands and dragged me outside with her in broad daylight.

The years of atrophy had wrecked my body, but the muscle tone and stamina were slowly coming back. I was getting stronger every single day.

I didn't have to sleep with one eye open anymore. I just had to execute the blueprint, step by step. The day I had been dreaming of for three years was finally within reach.

Chapter 5 When Kensington went live, I put on the performance of a lifetime. Sometimes, I played the sweet, tragic prop.

As she sobbed to her followers about the hardships of raising her mentally disabled stepsister, I would sit right next to her, patting her head in comfort.

I'd flash a vacant, drooling smile at the camera and mumble, "Thank you. Good people. Love sister." Other times, I went completely feral.

Without warning, I would launch myself at her, grab a fistful of her freshly styled hair, and start screaming at the top of my lungs. "Don't hit me! Celeste is bad!

Don't hit!" Trapped in front of thousands of viewers, Kensington's face would freeze.

The muscles in her jaw feathered, but she couldn't do a damn thing except sit there and let me go crazy. Once the chaos peaked, I pulled out my trump card.

I secretly hired bot farms to flood her comment section. [Is their relationship actually that good?] [Did you see how the sister flinched?

She's definitely getting abused offcamera.] [Major red flag. She's totally using that poor girl for views.] The backlash hit hard.

Panicked by the tidal wave of hate comments, Kensington vanished from the internet for days. Trapped in the house with her plummeting follower count, she was a powder keg.

Naturally, she made Parker her punching bag. One night, their screaming match reached a boiling point.

I slipped into the background, picked up Parker's phone from the coffee table, and smoothly punched in his passcode.

I tapped open his DMs, shoved the screen right into Kensington's face, and clapped my hands. "Sister, look! Pretty! Pretty!" Kensington's eyes locked onto the screen.

Her gaze tracked over the barrage of explicit mirror selfies and filthy text messages. Something inside her snapped.

She lunged, her manicured nails digging straight into Parker's throat. "What the fuck is this?!" What did she expect? Parker had always been a serial cheater.

I caught him hooking up with other girls back when we were still together, which was exactly why I dumped his pathetic ass.

But the second he heard rumors about my mother leaving me a massive trust fund, he suddenly transformed into the devoted, heartbroken ex.

He stuck around like a parasite, claiming he wanted to "take care of me," but really, he was just plotting a way into Kensington's bed.

For the past two years, they drained my tragedy for every drop of clout it was worth. Parker piggybacked off Kensington's influencer network to build his own connections.

I didn't even have to set up a honey trap for him; he hunted for fresh meat all on his own. He was usually careful about covering his tracks, though.

So, I just slipped a little cash to his newest side chick. She timed those spicy photos perfectly, guaranteeing tonight's explosion.

Parker didn't even have the brain capacity to question how the drooling idiot unlocked his phone.

He and Kensington were too busy tearing each other apart, trading vicious slaps and screaming every filthy curse word in the dictionary.

I stood on the sidelines, jumping up and down. I clapped my hands, cheering them on like it was the Super Bowl. The brawl only stopped when the front door swung open.

Duane stepped into the entryway, his face dark. He grabbed Parker by the collar and threw him out of the house.

Then, he turned his glare on Kensington, lecturing her for causing such a scene.

He told her that if Parker was the man she wanted to marry, she needed to learn how to keep one eye shut. "I am not going to be like my mother," Kensington spat.

Her hair was a tangled rat's nest, her designer top ripped at the collar. "I am not turning a blind eye to a cheating bastard." She had a point.

Duane was the one who blew up their original family. He cheated on Kensington's mother to get with mine. Not that Eleanor ever knew the truth.

When my mom met Duane, he played the part of the simple, honest, uneducated single dad whose wife had abandoned him. It mirrored her own painful history as a single mother.

She felt sorry for him. That misplaced pity was exactly how he manipulated his way into her life and her bank accounts. Kensington shot Duane a look of pure disgust.

Then, her eyes snapped across the room. They locked onto me, cowering in the corner. A dark, twisted realization flashed across her face.

She stomped over, her fingers biting into my upper arm. "Celeste, your hands must be so tired from all that clapping." Her voice was dangerously quiet. "Let Sister get you a drink of water." She hauled me down the hall and shoved me into the bathroom.

My spine slammed against the edge of the porcelain sink. She grabbed a fistful of my hair, forced my face down into the basin, and cranked the faucet on full blast.

Chapter 6 "If it wasn't for you and your mother, my life wouldn't be a mess! Eleanor deserved to die, and so do you, Celeste!" Icecold water blasted up my nose. My lungs burned.

I thrashed wildly, my nails scratching against the slick porcelain of the sink. The second Kensington's grip slipped, I wrenched myself backward.

I collapsed onto the tile floor, coughing up water, and wailed, "Money! Lots of money!" Heavy footsteps pounded down the hall.

Duane burst into the bathroom and grabbed my shoulders. "What money? Tell Daddy.

Is it the money Mommy left you?" "Sister, bedroom, money." I mirrored Kensington's signature livestream signoff.

I pinched my thumb and index finger together into a tiny heart, gave Duane an exaggerated, drooling wink, and shoved my hand deep into my pocket. Total bullshit.

I made the whole thing up on the spot just to save my own skin. My throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. I almost just drowned in a damn sink.

If I was going down, Kensington was coming with me. Duane was desperate. He was bleeding cash and foaming at the mouth for Eleanor's phantom trust fund.

There was zero chance he would let this slide. "What money? Celeste, what the hell are you babbling about?!" Panic flared in Kensington's eyes.

She knew exactly what kind of bloodsucker her father was.

Show a starving wolf a piece of meat, and it won't stop until it rips it from the bone. "Kensington, you don't even know how much money you have?

You need your disabled sister to tell you?" A greedy, sickening smirk stretched across Duane's face. "Daddy told you ages ago to let me manage your livestream income." "But no, you had to trust that boy toy.

Look where that got you. He cheated on you, and now you have nothing." "My livestream makes pennies. You run a massive company, Dad.

I'm sure you make way more than me." "I wouldn't dream of burdening you with it," Kensington's smile didn't reach her eyes. "My shirt is wet.

I'm going to change." She stormed out into the hall. Duane immediately chased after her down the corridor. I turned my back on the two parasites.

I splashed my hands in the overflowing sink basin, tilted my head to the side, and started humming a nursery rhyme.

The first little rabbit got sick, the second little rabbit took a look… Chapter 7 The third little rabbit bought the meds, the fourth little rabbit brewed the tea… The fifth little rabbit dropped down dead, the sixth little rabbit carried the body… The seventh little rabbit dug the hole, the eighth little rabbit buried the bones… A few days later, Parker's spicy DMs with the Instagram model leaked all over Twitter and TikTok.

Getting buried alive by the internet mob, Parker panicked. He stormed into the house, demanding to know why Kensington had blown up his life.

Kensington was completely clueless, of course. I was the one who pulled the trigger under her name.

Right as their screaming match was about to blow the roof off the house, Kensington's phone buzzed. It was her best friend, telling her to check the trending page immediately.

The yelling stopped. They both stared at the screen.

The top trending hashtags glared back in bright red: [Megainfluencer Kensington Caught Selling Counterfeits!] [Kensington's "Designer" Brand is Cheap Sweatshop Trash!] [Influencer Kensington Abusing Disabled Sister!] "You son of a bitch.

Playing the victim while you stab me in the back?!" Kensington whipped her phone right at Parker's face