Chapter 2

Sarah' s phone rang again. I stayed perfectly still, hidden by the angle of the corridor wall. Her voice, which had been angry a moment ago, now held a different tone.

"What? You recorded it...?"

She sounded tough at first, threatening to go to the police. But her voice cracked, becoming thin and choked with fear. A late spring breeze drifted through the open window at the end of the hospital hallway, but it felt like an icy blast. I pressed my hand against the cool wall to steady myself, my legs feeling numb and useless.

The thugs who beat me had recorded it. And they were using it to blackmail my family. The family who had orchestrated the whole thing.

I turned and walked back to the payment desk, my movements slow and deliberate. By the time Sarah came back to find me, her face was composed, though her eyes were still shadowed with worry.

"Ethan, let's go home," she said, her voice gentle. "Once you' re settled, I' ll talk to the police for you."

"No need," I said calmly. "I dropped the charges."

Sarah stared at me, her mouth slightly open in shock.

I smiled, a real smile this time, but it felt empty, like a mask. "Why?" I thought. "So I can send my adoptive parents and sister to jail?" The idea of screaming at them, of confronting them, suddenly felt exhausting. Eighteen years. Eighteen years of a shared life, of dinners and holidays and scraped knees. It all meant nothing next to the simple fact of blood. I was just an inconvenient stranger now. The anger was gone, replaced by a vast, cold emptiness.

Sarah didn't push. She just watched me, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. She helped me out of the hospital and to her car. I reached for the passenger door, but when I opened it, I stopped. The seat was cluttered with Noah's things-a half-empty energy drink, a pair of designer sunglasses, and a stupid, brightly-colored sticker on the dashboard that read "Noah's Spot."

"Oh, Noah was just messing around," Sarah said quickly, her voice a little too bright. "You know how he is. Don't get jealous again."

"I understand," I said quietly. I closed the passenger door and walked around to the back.

Her unease was obvious in the way she gripped the steering wheel. For the past month, ever since Noah had solidified his place in the family, any mention of his name was enough to make me angry and defensive. My newfound serenity was clearly unnerving her.

She tried to make small talk on the drive home, pointing out new shops, asking about my work. I just closed my eyes.

"Sarah, I'm tired."

She fell silent. The car hummed along the highway, and in the darkness of the back seat, tears I didn't know I was holding back began to stream silently down my face. I said I didn't care. How could I not care?

As we pulled into the driveway of the Harrison mansion, I could hear loud cheers erupting from inside the house before the car even stopped.

I stepped through the front door and froze. The living room was a scene of triumph.

"Dad, Mom, did you hear?" Noah was saying, his voice buzzing with excitement. He was waving his trophy around. "They called me a genius! A true prodigy! They said I developed such an amazing social media algorithm at only eighteen!"

Mrs. Harrison beamed, her eyes sparkling. "I heard, honey! I even took pictures. The reporters couldn't get enough of you! I'm so proud of our Noah!"

Mr. Harrison laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed in the high-ceilinged room. "Just you wait. Your dad will be bragging about you on every platform in a few days!"

I stood in the entryway, a ghost at their feast. My algorithm. My work. They weren't just taking credit for it. They were building a whole new legend for Noah on top of it. It was only last year, at a company dinner, that Mr. Harrison had put a hand on my shoulder and told the board that I was his proudest achievement, that my innovations would never be stolen or misappropriated as long as he was in charge.

The words felt like ash in my mouth now. I wondered, with a strange, detached curiosity, if they would even be sad for a moment if they knew I had cancer.

Noah slung an arm around Chloe, pulling her close and grinning triumphantly at his parents. "Dad, Mom, while we're making announcements, let's also tell everyone about my engagement to Chloe."

Chloe looked up at him, her gaze soft and adoring. It was a look I knew well. I almost forgot that my relationship with Chloe wasn't some strategic family alliance. I had met her at a campus startup fair. Her fashion brand was just a small online boutique back then. I spent years helping her, giving her tech advice, building her an inventory management system, and creating a user interface that was years ahead of her competitors. All for free. Because I loved her. She used to tell me she wanted to work hard to be worthy of me, the heir to the Harrison tech empire. So I helped her, pushing her brand into the luxury market.

The joyous chatter in the living room died abruptly when they finally saw me standing there. The smiles vanished from my parents' faces.

Mrs. Harrison was the first to speak, her voice layered with forced concern. "Ethan. How are you? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Noah sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips as he feigned sympathy. "Brother, I heard you were assaulted. Are you okay? It must be tough for a man to go through something like that, right?"

His words were poison, designed to humiliate me, to provoke a reaction. The flicker of concern in Mrs. Harrison' s eyes died, replaced by an undisguised look of disdain. She was embarrassed by me.

But I didn't get angry. I didn't feel humiliated. I just felt... tired. I managed a faint smile.

I was about to speak, to say something, anything, when my father cut me off, his voice sharp with impatience.

"Go to your room and rest. After what happened, you should stay home more often. Keep out of trouble."