Chapter 3

That night, I cried for a very long time.

Eventually, in my hazy state of mind, I tried to convince myself. My parents might treat Robert better than me, and they might have denied me material comforts, but I was still their biological son.

They had to love me. Why else would they go through the trouble of hiding their wealth and putting on a show in front of me?

In my heart, I decided to give them three chances.

If they showed me even a sliver of genuine love, I would forgive their favoritism.

The next morning, I gathered my courage and spoke to them during breakfast.

"Mom, Dad, Mr. Davis said the SAT prep course starts next week. Everyone has to pay $500."

I had actually brought this up multiple times before. Because the fee was unpaid, Mr. Davis had been giving me the cold shoulder at school.

But every time, my parents brushed me off with excuses, telling me to find a way myself.

Sure enough, hearing this, my dad's face sank into the same helpless, miserable expression from a few days ago.

My mother sighed, looking incredibly troubled.

"Ethan, we just don't have that kind of money."

"Look at how bad the economy is right now. It's hard enough just putting food on the table. Where would we find spare cash for some prep course?"

"Exactly," my dad chimed in. "Ethan, you’re practically an adult now. You need to understand how hard we have it. You’ll have to figure out this money on your own."

In the past, whenever I asked for money, I would feel overwhelmed with guilt, believing I was placing an unbearable burden on our struggling family.

So, I would take on part-time washing jobs and collect cans to scrape together whatever I could.

But now, looking at their fake, pathetic faces, I felt a wave of pure disgust.

They didn't hesitate for a second to buy Robert a luxury watch and a supercar, but they wouldn't spare a single dime for my education.

I couldn't help but raise my voice.

"I'm a high school student! I don't even get an allowance! How am I supposed to 'figure it out'?"

They both froze, clearly shocked that their usually quiet, obedient son was suddenly snapping at them.

My dad was the first to recover.

"Ethan! How dare you speak to us like that? Is this how we raised you? Have you forgotten everything we taught you about self-reliance?"

No, I hadn't forgotten. They had been teaching me "self-reliance" since I could walk.

When I was barely two years old, my dad wanted to make sure I learned to walk properly, so he left me at the bottom of our apartment stairs and made me climb up to the tenth floor by myself.

I had cried and stumbled all the way up, my knees bleeding by the time I reached the door.

When I was in middle school, they told me I couldn't live and eat for free, forcing me to pay them $20 a week for "room and board."

To get that money, I scavenged for recyclable cans in freezing winters, getting severe frostbite on my hands that still scarred over every year.

There were countless other instances. Before, I truly believed they did it to build my character. Now, it just felt like a sick joke.

Robert didn't have to lift a finger, yet he received all their love and a lavish lifestyle.

No matter how hard I tried, I could never be good enough for them.

Thinking of this, tears of sheer frustration welled up in my eyes. Why? I was their real child!

Seeing my expression, my mother quickly changed her tone. "Ethan, we can give you the money. But you have to sign a promissory note."

A promissory note. An I.O.U.

That was indeed something my parents would do. Since I wasn't Robert, I didn't deserve their unconditional support.

But in the end, I agreed.

I wanted to do well in the final stretch before the exams. I wanted to do it for my own future, and maybe, just maybe, to make them look at me with respect.