Chapter 4: Mind Games and Revelations

*Dad, it’s amazing that you can read minds! You have to see the truth. This was all Elliot’s scheme to set me up. Don’t, like last time, cut me off and throw me out. Dad, you don’t know—this world is about to face disaster. The Four-Nation Alliance, the invaders—they’re ruthless. They want our land and our people. You must…*

I poured everything into that silent plea, willing him to understand. I pictured the wars, the treaties, the faces of those who fought and died—hoping Dad would feel the urgency in my thoughts.

Scenes from my years as a wandering soul flashed through my mind—bombs, children on bayonets, women brutalized, men bleeding, and countless determined faces running into the fire.

“Thud!”

A heavy sound snapped me out of it. I saw Dad’s body sway, his face draining of color.

“Dad!”

My voice cracked as I lunged forward, catching him before he hit the floor. Panic surged through me, every nerve on fire.

“Dad! What’s wrong?”

My brother cried out in alarm, shoving me aside, barking, “Someone, call the doctor!”

Dad was unconscious for three days straight. The house went quiet as a tomb, everyone walking on eggshells, waiting for him to wake up.

During that time, my brother acted as head of the family, and I was locked up for ‘colluding with foreign agents,’ unable to move around. The world felt smaller than ever.

Mom had little influence and couldn’t fight back. She spent her days kneeling in church, praying for me to be cleared.

My brother was just as he’d been in my last life—still hoping I’d work for him, but I knew he’d never be a real leader. He kept sending notes, promising forgiveness if I played along. I just tore them up.

Especially after everything I saw after death, I saw my brother’s true colors even more clearly. He was selfish, short-sighted, and would ruin us all if given the chance.

If not for his stubbornness—shutting down the firearms research team and closing public schools—Liberty America wouldn’t have fallen so far, or become a puppet state. He thought he was saving the family, but he was just making things worse.

So, I’d already ruled out my brother. No way I’d ever side with him again.

But now that Dad was in a coma, I had to pretend—for my own survival—to go along with Elliot and hand over the full soap formula.

My brother was thrilled with the recipe, treating me a little better, loosening the leash just enough to make it bearable.

Even though I was still locked up, at least I had what I needed, and Mom was safe for now. That was all I cared about.

Everything changed the day Dad woke up. The whole house buzzed with rumors, and I could feel hope rising in my chest.

My brother, unwilling and sly, warned me: “Jackson, Dad wants to see you. Remember, watch your mouth when you’re with him.” His voice was low, threatening, but I just smiled.

“Of course,” I replied with a smile, all innocence on the outside, but inside I was already planning my next move.

Once I’m out, with Dad backing me, what do I have to fear from you?

My brother kept warning me, pacing the hall, eyes darting. He was nervous, and that gave me hope.

Led by the family butler, I walked into the study. Elliot tried to follow but was stopped by Mr. Welles, the old family retainer.

“Sorry, sir, Mr. Whitaker’s orders,” Mr. Welles said, voice polite but firm. “Mr. Whitaker only called for Jackson. Please wait in the parlor.”

Being stopped clearly caught my brother off guard. His face soured, but he could only call out, “Jackson, you haven’t been home in a while. When you come out, don’t forget to visit Mom.”

Threatening me with my mom?

Yeah, right. Nice try. I wasn’t falling for that anymore.

Once I have real backing, I’ll settle the score with you!

I squared my shoulders, ready to face whatever came next. This time, I was determined to write my own story.