Chapter 2

I took a freezing shower and crawled under my thin, stiff blanket.

We rented this dilapidated basement on the edge of the city. To save money for Dad's "cancer treatments," we never turned on the heat.

Every winter, Dad claimed his condition worsened and had Mom accompany him to a "subsidized clinic."

Now I knew the truth. They weren't dying in a clinic. They were basking in central heating inside a luxury penthouse, living like royalty.

I remembered being a kid. Whenever I had a fever, Dad would carry me on his back through pouring rain to the hospital, slipping in mud puddles but clutching me tight so I wouldn't hit the ground. Mom would hold the umbrella entirely over me, completely soaking her own shoulders.

They had loved me once.

So how could they fake cancer for years? How could they force me to drop out of school just to break my back working gig jobs to "support" them?

I covered my eyes with my arm and let out a dry, bitter laugh.

I was such an idiot. That penthouse cost more than I could earn in ten lifetimes. I didn't even have enough to pay their HOA fees, yet I thought I was keeping them alive.

To them, I was just a pet they toyed with.

Austin was their real son.

Sunlight filtered through the torn fabric taped over the window.

My five a.m. alarm went off. Time to start the breakfast delivery rush.

For the first time in four years, I hit dismiss and stayed in bed.

At eight a.m., my daily reminder popped up: "Call Dad to check on his morning meds. I'd give up ten years of my life for Dad to be healthy."

Looking at that note, I felt sick.

At ten, my phone rang.

"Leo? Why haven't you called this morning? Did something happen? Are you sick? Did you crash your scooter?"

Their panicked voices rang in my ear, but all I felt was cold detachment.

Their acting was truly award-worthy. No wonder I had believed them for so long.

"Leo? Leo! Why aren't you answering?"

I took a slow breath. "I'm tired."

A brief silence fell over the line. "What's wrong, sweetie? Was work too hard yesterday?"

I only answered with silence.

Ever since I turned eighteen, I had never once complained about being tired.

After a moment, Dad spoke up softly. "Son, it's Dad's fault for being useless. Don't go out today. It’s too cold. If you get hurt, our hearts will break."

Mom quickly added, "Yes, today is Christmas! Let's celebrate together. Remember how you've always wanted to eat at McDonald's? Let's go today! It's your birthday treat!"

"We even brought you a birthday cake!"

Their cheerful voices made my stomach turn.

"Okay," I whispered obediently.

I wanted to see just how far their performance could go.