1 Six years ago, Patrick Percy—the prodigal son my parents had just found after he’d been lost for years—cornered a girl in an alley. A predator driven by a sudden, vicious impulse. She didn’t survive. But under my parents’ protection, Patrick pinned the entire crime on me, his adopted brother. The victim’s family hurled cans of red paint at our front door, screaming for my life in return for hers. My parents and my younger sister, Leah, knelt before me, begging me to confess. "Patrick just got into Westwood University. His future can't be ruined by a prison sentence." "You've lived his life, enjoyed his privileges for over a decade. It's time you paid his price." I refused. I fought back, screaming that I would call the police, but they beat me unconscious and handed me over themselves. The case became a media sensation. My provisional acceptance to Oxford was revoked, my name given to someone else. The school expelled me. And Seraphina Blackwood—my girlfriend, the sole heiress to the Blackwood Corporation—took the stand and pointed her finger right at me. After I was sentenced, she visited me in prison, her voice a soft promise. "Evan, I know this is unfair. Just endure these six years. When you get out, I'll keep my word. I'll marry you." … Six years later, a guard unlocked the heavy steel gates. "Go out there and be a good man. No more trouble." He handed me a small slice of angel food cake, a tradition for a clean slate. "Eat this. A fresh start." I took the cake, my hand numb, and bowed my head in thanks. I had barely turned to leave when a hand grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked me backward. I was shoved into a battered old Jeep. The cake tumbled from my grasp, its pristine white surface splattering against the ground. A heavy boot immediately ground it into the mud. "Mr. Percy sends his regards, kid," the driver sneered. "Today's a big day for the young master, he’s receiving an award. Your showing up would be bad luck. I'm here to take you back home." The whole city was erupting in applause for Patrick Percy, the nation's youngest scientific prodigy. Not a single soul remembered me, the one who had rotted in a cell for his crime for six long years. We were just hitting the outer ring road when a custom supercar, shimmering as if dusted with diamonds, cut us off. A woman in a limited-edition designer suit stepped out. It was Seraphina. She opened the Jeep’s door with a look of distaste, her brow furrowed as she looked at me. Her voice was cool, detached. "You've had a rough six years. The wedding is next week. I'm a woman of my word; I said I'd marry you when you got out." I stared at her, my face a mask of indifference. Then, without a word, I pushed myself out of the Jeep. My right leg buckled, and I moved with a pronounced limp. "You don't mind that I'm a cripple? Then let's get married." Seraphina froze, her eyes fixed on my leg. "Evan, your leg…" Before she could finish, her phone rang. "Sera, you have to come quick! My brother just collapsed!" It was my sister, Leah, on the other end. Seraphina’s face filled with panic. "I'm sorry, Evan. Patrick's not well. I have to get to the hospital." She rushed out an explanation. "He's been under so much pressure. When he heard you were coming home yesterday, he felt so guilty he cried all night. Your parents and Leah are with him now." She turned to leave, then hesitated, her gaze falling back to my leg. "Go on to the Percy estate. I'll find the best orthopedic surgeon in the city to fix your leg." I watched her supercar speed away, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. This leg was destroyed on my first day in prison six years ago. The agony was blinding, and my desperate cries for help only seemed to fuel the sadism of the inmates. What followed was a new level of torture. Every beating, every slur I endured over those six years was a brutal, relentless reminder that no one had ever truly loved me. My parents, my sister, my fiancée—the person they truly cared about was Patrick. Twenty years ago, my parents chose me from an orphanage. They wept as they held me, saying I looked just like the son they had just lost. I became their medicine, a balm for their grief. But I never felt their love. I was constantly scolded, constantly reminded of how I fell short of their perfect, lost son. I pushed myself to be flawless, desperate for a single word of praise. My room was wallpapered with awards and certificates. I was the star student, the one teachers adored. But at home, I was invisible. The day they found Patrick, their faces lit up with a joy so pure and ecstatic it took my breath away. It was a look I had never seen, and never would receive, in my entire life. … "Second Young Master, the utility closet at the end of the hall on the first floor has been cleared out for you," the driver said as we arrived. "Mr. Percy said what happened six years ago was a huge scandal. He wants you to stay out of sight, so you don't embarrass the family in front of guests." My hands clenched into fists. I had served six years for Patrick's crime, and my parents were still determined to brand me a murderer? A familiar, dull ache settled in my chest. I locked myself in the cramped, dusty room and let the tears I had held back for six years finally fall. I woke in the middle of the night, my stomach cramping with hunger. I realized no one had called me for dinner. With a hollow laugh, I crept toward the kitchen, hoping to find some scraps. As I neared the living room, I heard Leah's voice, sharp with complaint. "Mom, Dad, why did you even bring Evan back? You know he stole Patrick’s place. He should have died in prison for all I care!" My mother sighed. "We were afraid he'd start talking, that he might ruin Patrick's career." "I don't want to see him," Leah pouted. "He was never one of us. I just want it to be the four of us: you, Dad, and Patrick." Her words were daggers in my heart. My limbs went cold. The little sister I had adored and protected for so many years… she hated me this much. I knew they didn't love me, but hearing it spoken so plainly still felt like my lungs were being crushed. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was my old university professor, the head of my lab. "Evan. I've waited six years for this call. I'm finally able to reach you. I'm so sorry, son. I did everything I could, but my influence was limited. I couldn't get you out." Hearing his voice, a fresh wave of tears streamed down my face. On the day of the murder, I had an alibi. I was in the lab with my professor, working late. After the Percys forced me into prison, he had fought for me, appealing to the courts, presenting our evidence. But every attempt was blocked, every piece of evidence buried by the Blackwood family's lawyers, all orchestrated by Seraphina. My professor was the only person in the world who still remembered me, who still cared. I immediately accepted his offer. I agreed to release the patent for the technology I'd developed six years ago for use in the top-secret "Project Chimera," a national research initiative. "That's wonderful news! Evan, with you on board, Project Chimera will be unstoppable." His voice was filled with excitement. "In ten days, I'll come to pick you up and take you to the facility. You're about to send shockwaves through the entire scientific community!" Six years. After six years of being buried in darkness, I could finally step back into the light. Ten days. I clenched my fists, my jaw tight. Just ten more days. Then I could finally leave this cold, loveless house for good. This time, I was the one leaving them. The next morning, the sudden crackle of fireworks outside jolted me awake. I fell from my makeshift bed, scrambling into a corner, trembling uncontrollably. A maid pushed the door open and saw me huddled there, her eyes filled with contempt. The fireworks… they brought it all back. In prison, they'd stuffed firecrackers into my bedding. The explosion, the searing flames engulfing my body. I had survived, but with burns covering over half my body, leaving behind a tapestry of hideous, permanent scars. "The Young Master is in a good mood. He wants you to come out for a meal. Stop dragging your feet and get a move on!" she snapped. I forced myself to calm down and stepped out of the utility closet. The lavishly decorated living room buzzed with energy. Patrick stood in the center, dressed in a bespoke suit, a golden party crown perched on his head like some pampered prince. My parents, Leah, and my fiancée, Seraphina, all gathered around him, celebrating his birthday. My parents presented him with the keys to a new sports car. "Our son, you're brilliant! Chosen for Project Chimera! You make us so proud!" Leah gave him a pair of diamond cufflinks. "Big brother, I'll miss you so much when you're at the facility!" Seraphina handed him a portfolio. "Patrick, my parents are thrilled about you joining the project. This is a birthday gift from them—half the shares of the Blackwood Corporation." Patrick accepted it all with a gracious smile, then his eyes found me, standing alone and disheveled at the edge of the room. "Evan, you're awake! I'm so sorry I didn't get to welcome you yesterday, I collapsed so suddenly. You're not mad at your big brother, are you?" Before I could answer, Seraphina spoke for me. "Of course he's not. He's your brother, after all." "Good. Evan, come have some cake! Mom and Dad got my favorite—mango." I remained frozen in place. My father’s face darkened. "What an ungrateful brat," he muttered. "Can't even wish his own brother a happy birthday." A bitter laugh escaped me. They had forgotten. They had all forgotten that I'm deathly allergic to mangoes. One bite could kill me. Patrick, ever the 'caring' brother, spoke up. "Dad, Mom, don't be so hard on him. If it weren't for Evan taking the fall for me, I'd never have had the chance to join Project Chimera. You know, back in the day, he was the real genius. It's amazing how much can change in six years." He cut a large slice of the cake and walked toward me. "Evan, it's my birthday. Just one bite, for me. Please?" The sickly-sweet scent of mango flooded my senses. My throat began to tighten, my vision swam with red. And then I saw it—a wicked, triumphant smile on Patrick's face, a private little show just for me. My heart hammered against my ribs. In a flash of cold dread, I realized he was trying to kill me, right here, in front of everyone. My hand shot out, swatting the plate from his hand. It clattered to the floor. "You bastard!" My father's hand cracked across my face. "Your brother offers you cake out of the kindness of his heart, and you throw it on the floor? Have you lost your mind?" My mother rushed to Patrick's side, shielding him as if I were a monster. "You ungrateful wolf! We should have never brought you into our home! How dare you lay a hand on my son!" Leah, in her sharp high heels, kicked me twice in my good leg. "You useless cripple! Why didn't you just die in prison? What are you even doing here?" Their words rained down on me, each one a physical blow. I collapsed, too broken to stand. I looked up and met Seraphina's cold, disappointed gaze. "Evan, I can't believe what you've become. You've lost even the most basic sense of respect. I'm so disappointed in you." I looked at their furious, accusing faces, at Patrick's smug, victorious expression, and a ragged laugh tore from my throat. If they didn't want me here, fine. I would leave. I hauled myself up from the floor, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. "I think I'll go for a walk. I don't want to spoil the party." "Then don't come back! This family has no place for a coward like you!" my father roared. As I stepped out of the Percy estate, I took a deep breath. Nine days. Nine more days and I would be free of them forever. As for Seraphina… if I was such a disappointment to her, then there was no need for a wedding. Growing up under the Percys' harsh, loveless rule had taught me how to survive on my own. I found a job at a small diner—serving tea, clearing tables, washing dishes. It was mindless work, but it was honest. The owner knew about my prison record but didn't care. It was a place to rest my head. That night, the familiar ache returned, sharp and insistent. Six years ago, Seraphina was in a car accident. To save her, I had willingly donated my left eye and one of my kidneys. The recovery should have been smooth, but the years of abuse in prison had ravaged my body. The internal damage was severe. I swallowed a painkiller, but the agony was too much. I blacked out. … A few days later, I saw it on the news. Seraphina Blackwood and Patrick Percy were announcing their engagement. Stunned, I answered a call from her. Her voice was hesitant. "Evan… Patrick is very sick. The doctors say his prognosis is poor. He wants to marry me. I can't say no." "You need to give me some time," she continued, her voice pleading. "I have to help him through this. After all… he was the one who donated his eye and kidney to me after the accident. I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for him." The world tilted on its axis. It was me. I was the one who saved her. How had it become Patrick? "Fine," I said, my voice hollow. "I wish you both happiness." I didn't argue. I didn't explain. As I hung up, I could still hear her promising to find a doctor for my leg, still insisting that our wedding would happen, that she just needed a little more time… On the day of their wedding, the entire city's elite turned out. The ceremony was broadcast live, a lavish, fairytale spectacle. I sent Seraphina one last text message: I wish you happiness. From this moment on, we are strangers. I attached the digital file of the organ donation consent form I had signed six years ago. My signature and thumbprint were clearly visible. After that, I snapped my SIM card in half and threw it in the trash. I said goodbye to the diner owner, then walked out to the curb where my professor was waiting. Without a second's hesitation, I got in his car. Goodbye, Seraphina. Goodbye, Mom, Dad, and Leah. This time, I was the one who didn't want you.
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