Chapter 2

The journey from the sterile opulence of the Miller mansion to the curb was short but brutal. Brandon insisted on "helping" me with my single, hastily packed duffel bag. His help consisted of shoving me down the front steps.

I landed hard on the gravel driveway, the sharp stones digging into my palms. My bad wrist throbbed with a fresh wave of pain.

"Oops," Brandon said, his voice loud enough for the parents watching from the doorway to hear. "So clumsy, Alex. You need to be more careful."

He knelt beside me, his face a perfect picture of brotherly concern. He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear.

"Enjoy the nuthouse," he whispered, a venomous smirk playing on his lips. "Don' t worry, I' ll take good care of MillerTech. And Sarah."

He patted my cheek, a little too hard, and stood up, his expression shifting back to one of deep sorrow as he turned to our parents. "He' s just so upset, he can' t even walk straight. This is for the best."

My mother nodded, dabbing at a non-existent tear with a silk handkerchief. "You' re a good son, Brandon. So compassionate."

I wanted to laugh. The whole scene was a terrible play, and they were all terrible actors. But the pain in my wrist was real, and the gravel digging into my skin was real. I stayed silent, pushing myself to my feet.

Sarah walked over, her heels clicking on the stone. She stopped a few feet away, as if getting too close might infect her with my failure.

"I' m keeping the car, by the way," she said, her voice cold and practical. "Consider it compensation for my emotional distress."

The car I' d bought for her with the money from my first indie game. Of course.

A black town car with tinted windows pulled up to the curb. A man in a plain suit got out. He didn' t look at me, just opened the back door. My official expulsion.

As I walked toward the car, a strange pang hit my chest. It was a deep, aching sadness, a feeling of being abandoned by the only family I' d ever known. It felt foreign, an echo from a life that wasn't quite mine. It was the original Alex' s pain, a ghost ache from the boy who had desperately wanted these people to love him.

I pushed the feeling down. That boy was gone. I was here now.

"Alex, wait."

It was Chloe. She had run down the steps, her phone mercifully put away. Her face was a mess of confusion and something that might have been a sliver of guilt.

"Are you... are you really okay with this?" she asked, her voice small.

I turned to face her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"But they' re sending you away. To a facility."

"And?"

She just stared at me, unable to comprehend my lack of devastation.

"Don' t worry about me, Chloe," I said, my tone flat. "Go get your likes. Tell your followers how brave your family is for dealing with your problematic brother."

Her face flushed. I had hit a nerve.

Before she could respond, I got into the car. The door shut with a solid, final thud, sealing me off from the world of the Millers.

As the car pulled away, I glanced back one last time. They were a perfect family portrait on the steps of their mansion, bathed in the warm light of the porch. A perfect, happy family. With one piece finally, surgically removed.

The car was quiet for a long time as we drove away from the manicured lawns of the elite and into the city proper.

A soft, electronic chime sounded in my head.

[System Activated. Host identity confirmed: Alex Miller.]

I leaned my head back against the cool leather seat and closed my eyes. Here we go.

[You have been successfully integrated into the world of the novel, "The Golden Son's Revenge." Your current role is the cannon fodder villain, Alex Miller, the fake young master who is destined for ruin.]

The System' s voice was neutral, robotic. It was my constant companion since I' d woken up in this body a year ago, a man from another world dropped into a cheap revenge novel I' d once skimmed.

[Primary Mission: Survive the main plot and expose the protagonist, Brandon Miller's, true nature.]

[Secondary Mission: Gain the Miller family's approval and reclaim your rightful place.]

I let out a short, humorless laugh.

"System," I thought, my communication with it purely mental. "Let' s get a few things straight."

[Awaiting Host's instructions.]

"First, forget the secondary mission. I want their approval like I want a hole in the head. It' s worthless."

There was a pause.

[Secondary Mission objective is designed to maximize Host' s long-term success and resource acquisition...]

"I don' t care," I cut it off. "Cancel it. My long-term success is getting as far away from those people as possible."

[...Acknowledged. Secondary Mission canceled.]

"Good. Now, about the primary mission. Exposing Brandon is fine, but only if it serves my main goal. And my main goal isn't what you think it is."

[Please clarify, Host.]

"My main goal is to live a quiet life. I want to be left alone. I want to earn my own money, eat three meals a day, and maybe, if I have time, develop my own games. That' s it. I' m not interested in revenge, or justice, or any of the dramatic nonsense in this stupid book."

I had spent my previous life working myself to death. I wasn' t going to waste my second chance playing power games with a bunch of cardboard cutout characters. They could have their family drama. I just wanted peace.

[Host's primary objective has been updated: Achieve a peaceful and self-sufficient life.]

"Excellent," I thought, a genuine smile touching my lips for the first time that day. "Now, tell me about this 'wellness retreat' ."

[The Serenity Hills Wellness Retreat is a high-end rehabilitation facility funded by several powerful families, including the Millers. It is designed to house and reform individuals who pose a threat to their family's reputation. It is isolated, heavily monitored, but provides for all basic needs, including food, lodging, and medical care.]

My smile grew wider.

Isolated. Monitored. All basic needs provided.

It wasn't a prison. It was a sanctuary. Brandon and the Millers thought they were punishing me. They had no idea they' d just given me the greatest gift of all. They' d given me a safe place to hide while I figured out my next move.

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