Chapter 7

After leaving the Vance residence, Ronan boarded a bus back to campus.

Today, he'd work into the night, and the software would finally be finished.

It was still a simple version—mostly text-based options with minimal functionality—but it was ready to use. The templates were already set up; the only real task was inputting all the dishes and staples, which was no small job.

Of course, calling it "software" was a bit generous. At first glance, it looked more like a spreadsheet: each option had plus and minus buttons to select quantities.

'Once I post this on the forum, I can start making money,' Ronan thought, watching the city blur past the bus window, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time, he felt completely free of the Vance family. The future stretched out before him, wide and promising.

Back at his dorm, he didn't even unpack his suitcase. He dropped onto the chair in front of his computer and started typing furiously.

It was past one in the morning before he tested the software himself and found no major issues. Then he opened the university forum.

The forum was the liveliest place on campus, a hub for teachers, students, and alumni to share knowledge and ideas. But when he clicked in, the screen was full of a chaotic mix of posts.

[Jenny Baldwin from Econ 3, you shameless bitch! Stay the hell away from my boyfriend!]

[S>Carry service for Cold Camo in Hall of Duty. $2 per run.]

[Get a fake iPhone for $50! Feel like a baller walking down the streets!]

Ronan uploaded his software and finally went to bed.

…

The next morning, at the Vance household.

"Allison, breakfast is ready!" Bella called from downstairs.

She added, puzzled, "She usually comes down before us. What's going on today?"

Linda frowned. "Is she sick? Bella, go check on her upstairs."

Bella nodded and knocked on Allison's bedroom door.

The door opened.

"Allison, are you feeling unwell—" Her words trailed off.

She froze in shock. Allison looked utterly exhausted. Her face was pale, her eyes dull and lifeless. Clearly, she'd stayed up all night.

"What's up?" Allison's voice was hoarse.

"Breakfast… You didn't sleep last night?" Bella asked.

Allison's face remained expressionless. "I had some urgent work to finish last night. I'm not eating—go on without me." She shut the door before Bella could say another word.

Bella stared, stunned.

Allison's schedule was usually impeccable. No matter what happened, she slept on time and handled everything the next day. She even lectured them about staying up late, saying it wasted time, lowered efficiency, and affected the next day's work.

Why did she seem… off today? Bella went downstairs, still puzzled.

Allison returned to her computer. She had spent the entire night reviewing the surveillance footage.

The truth she saw was hard to accept. Every time something had gone missing in the house, it had nothing to do with Ronan. It had been Thomas—sometimes even with Carmen's help.

She closed her eyes. Despite staying up all night, she felt no sleepiness, only discomfort.

She had seen the truth—and what happened after. How the family punished Ronan. How he returned to his room after being scolded, alone and dejected.

Images of Ronan's eyes—angry yet tinged with disappointment—kept flashing in her mind.

She bit her lips hard. That must be the source of his disappointment.

No one in the family trusted him. Whenever something went missing, he was immediately the suspect, never given a chance to explain.

She remembered the time Bella's makeup went missing. Ronan's reaction had seemed performative, and she had felt annoyed, thinking he was cunning, acting as if it were real.

Now, she realized—Ronan had truly been wronged.

Her gaze was vacant as she clicked through old videos, pausing whenever someone appeared on screen and skipping when there was no one of interest.

Suddenly, she stopped.

The video showed the kitchen.

High school-aged Ronan set down his backpack, hurried to the counter, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work cooking.

The housekeeper spoke beside him.

"Young master, let me do it," she offered.

"No, I'll make the porridge for my sister myself. You rest, Daisy," Ronan said with a smile.

"You're so thoughtful," Daisy praised.

"I need to be more sensitive toward my family," Ronan replied. "Allison's stomach is delicate. She often skips dinner when busy at night, but then she goes straight to bed and can't eat much. Porridge is warm and healthy—it's best."

Allison froze.

He had made the porridge… specifically for her.

Watching him focus so intently, Allison felt a lump in her chest. He treated it like a serious task, as if it were important.

She glanced at the timestamp—this was about six months after Ronan had returned home. He was still in the second year of high school, so he came home earlier than in the third year.

She remembered that night clearly. He had brought the porridge out from the kitchen. She barely glanced at it, said she wouldn't eat, and went upstairs.

Allison fast-forwarded the video and saw herself. After she left, Ronan stood there with the bowl, staring blankly, then returned to the kitchen, disappointed.

Her heart tightened.

The next morning, when Bella discovered the porridge had been made by Ronan, she threw the pot straight into the trash. Ronan simply stood there, guilt etched on his face, as if he had done something wrong.

Allison's eyes warmed, her heart tugged painfully.

Seeing him like that… she felt a surge of protectiveness.

No one else had considered her delicate stomach. None of her sisters cared; at least they didn't give her trouble.

But Ronan remembered. He even made porridge for her. And she had ignored him.

She recalled that he had done this many times, even once delivering food directly to her university. She had scolded him each time, driving him away. She never ate what he made.

Ronan had genuinely cared for the family before.

But now… one rejection after another, constant blame, repeated injustice—had pushed him to give up on the family entirely, even to sever ties.

Thinking of the necklace incident from last night, Allison stood and headed downstairs.