Brothers Want Me Back novel Chapter 1

The news of Elaine Yeats' death was so ridiculous, no one bought it at first.

"Bad things never die," people said. And if anyone proved that saying true, it was Elaine Yeats.

A jealous, lying, scheming nightmare of a woman—so toxic she practically oozed venom. How could someone like that just drop dead? It didn't make sense.

Most people waved it off as one of her attention-seeking games. Classic Elaine. She had pulled enough stunts over the years for everyone to roll their eyes and move on.

At that exact moment, Tracy Yeats, Elaine's mom, was out shopping for a birthday dress. Not for Elaine, though. Nope, this was for Bianca Yeats—Tracy's adopted daughter.

Bianca wasn't even blood, but she'd been swapped at birth and raised as a Yeats. Tracy adored her like she was her own flesh and blood. Maybe even more than that.

Elaine? It was her birthday too. Not that Tracy cared. She'd completely forgotten until a servant whispered a reminder. With an annoyed sigh, Tracy grabbed some random dress off the rack and tossed it in her cart. 'Bianca wouldn't wear this anyway,' she thought. 'Might as well give it to Elaine.'

Zero guilt. Zero hesitation. Tracy wasn't the kind of woman to agonize over playing favorites.

A week earlier, the Yeats household had been a battlefield. Tracy had never been close to Elaine.

Honestly, Elaine made it hard to love her, with her sulking and constant drama. Next to Bianca—sweet, graceful, and everyone's favorite—Elaine just didn't measure up.

To Tracy, Bianca was the perfect daughter. Elaine was just an angry shadow who couldn't stand being overlooked. And when Elaine finally snapped, it was a disaster.

She had set Bianca up to get cornered by some gang of thugs—just to scare her. But it went sideways.

Bianca darted into traffic and scraped her arm on a passing car. It wasn't a big injury, but the sight of blood sent Tracy into a rage.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Tracy had shouted, not even letting Elaine explain.

Elaine panicked. The more Tracy screamed, the more desperate she got. Then, in a full-blown breakdown, Elaine grabbed a knife and slashed her wrists.

Blood dripped to the floor as she screamed, "Is this enough for you?! Is this what you want? Should I just die for her?!"

Even then, Tracy didn't soften. If anything, Elaine's outburst just made her more disgusted. "You need help," she muttered coldly, barely glancing at the blood. "Your sister would never pull this kind of shit."

That line? It wrecked Elaine. Her whole life, she'd been fighting to belong, to prove she mattered. But no matter how hard she tried, she was always the odd one out.

Now, Tracy was planning a huge birthday party for Bianca—a loud, sparkly reminder that Elaine was an afterthought.

But Elaine wouldn't live to see the party. She was gone. Killed in a fiery car explosion that wasn't an accident.

Seven of her brothers—the golden boys of the Yeats family—had been in the car with her. All drugged and locked inside as the smoke thickened.

Bianca managed to squeeze through a window, crying and shaking. But Elaine? She stayed. Somehow, she stayed awake long enough to drag her brothers out, one by one, using every ounce of strength she had left.

When the last brother was safe, she turned back for her teddy bear. Stupid, right? A silly little thing she couldn't leave behind. But her body gave out before she could escape.

She collapsed in the backseat, choking on smoke, too weak to move.

Through the haze, she saw her brothers waking up. Relief flooded her. At least they were safe. But then she watched them rush past her. Straight to Bianca.

They threw their arms around her, frantic, checking for injuries. Not one of them even glanced at Elaine.

"Elaine's still in the car!" Bianca sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "What about her?"

Shawn, the eldest, turned back to the burning car. "Don't worry about it," he said, his voice cold and dismissive. "She probably ran off. Someone like her wouldn't stick around for anyone but herself."

Elaine spent her whole life being misunderstood. She should've been used to it by now. But even in her final moments, it hurt like hell.

They never saw her for who she really was. Just the bitter, jealous woman they thought couldn't stand her sister.