Chapter 2

2

I was about to leave when Liam suddenly walked up.

He was my brother's son, but I was the one who raised him.

He looked so much like Jocelyn. He had her temper, her eyes, and unfortunately, her hatred for me.

"You―" I started, but he cut me off.

"Logan, you're just a pathetic loser living off my mom," he spat. "You were supposed to take care of me for my dad, but you're so shameless you actually tried to replace him."

I tried to explain, but his glare stopped me cold.

"You deserve to be kicked out," he sneered. "Mom was right to leave you here to rot in front of my father's grave."

My heart felt like it was being shredded. "Liam, I raised you. I changed your diapers, cooked your meals, and did everything for you. How can you say that?"

"Stop acting like a hero! If my dad hadn't left the company for Mom to run, I'd be on the streets. You're just here for the money."

He screamed at me, his face red with rage. "You're disgusting. You aren't even worth my dad's pinky finger."

Before I could react, he stomped hard on the back of my hand and ran toward the parking lot.

I gritted my teeth against the pain and forced myself up. The fog was rolling in, and a cold drizzle began to fall.

At the gate, I saw Liam holding the arm of a man, helping him toward the car.

"Liam, what happened?" Jocelyn rushed over, her voice full of worry.

"The road is slippery. Uncle Quentin fell and hurt his ankle while coming to get me," Liam said.

Quentin. He was Jocelyn's high school sweetheart and currently her top assistant.

I'd heard they were supposed to get married years ago. But somehow, she ended up with my brother instead.

Jocelyn knelt by Quentin's side, checking his leg. "Are you okay? Does it hurt bad?"

The sight of her panic felt like a blade in my chest. She never looked at me that way.

Quentin smiled weakly. "I'm fine, Jocelyn. Don't worry."

Jocelyn and Liam flanked him, carefully helping him into the SUV.

As he sat down, Quentin looked toward me. "What about Mr. Fisher? Is it okay if I take the front seat?"

Jocelyn didn't even turn her head. "Forget about him. He wants to play the martyr, let him."

I watched the taillights fade into the rain. They looked like a perfect, happy family.

The rain poured harder. Each step I took toward home felt heavier than the last.

By the time I reached the villa, the sun was beginning to rise.

The house was quiet. They hadn't come back last night.

As I pushed the door open, the maid looked at me with a mocking grin. "Mr. Fisher, if you aren't going to work, at least don't make more work for us."

I looked down at the mud on my shoes and stayed silent.

Was I really going to waste the rest of my life and my dignity on people who didn't care if I lived or died?

I had fulfilled my brother's last wish. Seven years was enough.

I realized then that I was done being their doormat.