Chapter 3

I poured myself into studying with a vengeance.

I knew that true independence was my only ticket out from under their thumb.

College admissions season arrived faster than expected.

When my SAT scores came back, I had done even better than in my past life—a near-perfect score.

Seeing the scores, Dad gave a satisfied nod. "Top tier marks, nice job. Don't bother looking at other places. Apply directly to the same university as Jordan."

His tone left zero room for debate.

Mom chimed in right on cue, "Exactly, apply to the same school. That way you two brothers can look out for each other."

Look out for each other? What a sick joke.

It had always been me carrying him on my back.

Where was the mutual support in that?

I ducked my head to hide the cold, mocking smirk pulling at my lips.

With scores high enough to get me into an Ivy League program, they were forcing me to waste it all on an arts college.

All so I could serve as Jordan's personal steppingstone once again, spoon-feeding him through graduation just like in my previous life.

Yet I could not outright fight them on it.

It was because I had already tried that before.

In my past life, I refused to be Jordan’s safety net, insisting on going to a university far away from him.

I had submitted my application for my dream school and major, guarding my online portal credentials like they were gold.

Yet at the very last second, my choices were altered anyway.

Dad flexed his wealth, hiring a top hacker to override my submitted application right before the deadline.

So, in this life, playing along was my only option.

I knew I lacked the leverage to go head-to-head with them right now.

Seeing how docile I seemed, Dad was pleased enough to reward me with a high-end set of professional paintbrushes—the exact set I used to beg for, the one they always claimed was too expensive.

Too late, Dad. I had given up on painting long ago.

My dreams were crushed the moment he forced me to hand my award-winning piece over to Jordan.

Stepping back onto that arts campus felt like a grim rerun.

To keep me tethered to Jordan, my parents made sure I enrolled in the same fine arts program.

Except this time around, I added a pre-law double major.

Thanks to my stellar academic record, the department head approved my request almost instantly.

I spent the next three years buried in grueling coursework and part-time jobs.

My parents had not given me a single cent for allowance.

I spent every moment outside of class grinding for cash.

I took odd jobs at local galleries and art museums.

I did custom murals for wealthy families.

I painted promotional signs for local shops.

I took whatever paid.

It was exhausting, but every paycheck felt like a victory.

Watching my bank balance grow, I counted down the days until I could cut ties with my family forever.

Everything was moving according to plan until Jordan hit the exact same wall as before: failing eight core courses in a single semester, staring down immediate expulsion.

The second my parents found out, they stormed into the gallery where I was working.

Without asking a single question, Dad cracked his palm straight across my face.

"What kind of brother are you? How could you let him fail all those classes without telling us?

"We gave you all that allowance to keep an eye on him, and you're out here wasting time on odd jobs? Is this how an older brother behaves?"

I cupped my stinging cheek, swallowing down the metallic taste of blood.

The iron tang made my heart ache far worse than my face.

I raised my eyes, locking my gaze with Mom.

Feeling my stare, she flinched and looked away, tugging on Dad's sleeve, and said with a hushed voice, "Don't be too hard on Brandon, he's only working because he ran out of money."

Dad barked back, "How could he be out of money?

"Didn't we agree on eight hundred dollars a month for Jordan and eighty for him? Where did all that money go?"

My lips twitched upward as I kept my gaze fixed on Mom.

Wringing her hands nervously, she blurted out, "I gave his share to Jordan. You know how delicate Jordan's health is. He has way more expenses.

"Brandon's older and healthy. He's fully capable of earning his own pocket money, so I just wired everything to Jordan."

Dad gaped at her, genuinely stunned. He had no idea I had not received a single penny from them this whole time.

Yet that shock lasted for a fraction of a second before he rounded on me again with fresh fury. "So what if you didn't get an allowance? You're clearly not starving to death, so why couldn't you keep an eye on your brother?

"At the end of the day, you're rotten to the core! You just want to see Jordan fail! You deliberately set him up because you're a bad seed!"

Mom joined in, her face twisted with disgust. "Exactly! You're still breathing, aren't you? Why couldn't you show a little care for your brother? You were just born broken!"

Their harsh accusations felt like a volley of arrows piercing my chest.

A wave of despair threatened to swallow me whole.

Even with a second chance at life, fully knowing who they were, their words stripped me raw.

I guessed blood ties ran that deep.

Fortunately, this was the final straw.

I managed a pale, hollow smile.

"Mom, Dad, who says I never told you?"

I took out my phone and pulled up our chat history right in front of them.

There it was, in plain text: warning after warning about Jordan skipping classes, partying non-stop, and heading straight for expulsion.

Jordan was nothing like me. He had all our parents' affection and spoiled luxury.

From day one, he used their generous allowance to run with a crowd of wealthy party kids, blowing money on nights out.

He had neither the time nor the drive to study.

Deep down, he was just a talentless slacker.

Even using my stolen portfolio to slide into a prestigious arts college, the dense, technical jargon in his textbooks was complete gibberish to him.

He could not grasp a word of it.

Failing was inevitable.

Yet back then, my parents refused to hear a word of it.

They had shut me down with cruel sneers. "You're just jealous of your brother! You can't stand seeing him succeed! Jordan is brilliant, there's no way he's flunking out!

"He just has fragile health and doesn't feel like pushing himself. Otherwise, he'd be ten times better than a bookworm like you!

"If you keep spreading lies about your brother, don't bother calling us your parents!"

They had projected the worst motives onto me, refusing to accept that their golden child was fundamentally incompetent.

Staring at the chats on my screen, their faces drained of color.

Their mouths opened, but not a single sound came out.

Leaving them speechless, I turned around and walked back into the gallery to finish my shift.

If I did not finish today's tasks, I would not get paid.

I knew that even after discovering I was living on zero dollars, they would not offer me a dime.

I could only rely on myself.

Sure enough, as I went back to work, my parents linked arms and walked away without a shred of guilt.

Not a single word of concern. Not even a backward glance.

Watching their figures fade down the street, I made a quiet vow to myself that it was fine if nobody loved me. As long as I loved myself, one day, I would find people who do too.