Chapter 1

Fighting back the swelling ache in my throat, I finished my food in silence and retreated to my room.

My chest throbbed uncontrollably, and hot tears pricked my eyes.

But before I could even dig out my allergy medicine, my door was kicked open.

Jaxon stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking utterly impatient.

"Whip me up some stimulant potions. Hurry up, I need them for tomorrow."

Suppressing the rising itch of my allergy symptoms, I desperately wanted to say no.

But I knew Jaxon's explosive temper. If I refused, he would definitely throw a massive fit.

I could only give a weak nod. "Okay."

At that exact moment, Wyatt strolled over, sounding just as entitled.

"If you're making his, you're making mine, too. I want top-tier sleeping potions. Don't slack off."

The preparation processes for these two specific potions are not only complex but actively clash with each other. It would take at least a full day and night of non-stop work.

I tried to reason with him. "Then wait until tomorrow..."

"No!" Wyatt snapped, glaring at me. "Why do you have to make Jaxon's first? Are you doing this on purpose so I lose to him?"

The allergic reaction was sapping my strength, leaving me with almost no energy to argue.

Right then, our mother, Corrine, heard the commotion and hurried over.

She shot me a sharp, disapproving glare. "It's just a potion, Harper. Why did you have to say no? Or are you actively trying to make your brothers fight?"

"You know we've always been fair to them."

Staring at the room full of accusing eyes, a bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat.

It turned out that fairness in this family was entirely situational.

When resources were divided, Jaxon and Wyatt got fairness.

When it was time to shoulder the blame, fairness suddenly landed squarely on me.

I didn't waste another breath. I crouched down in silence, gathered a basket of herbs, and headed down to the basement.

I stayed up for over ten hours straight to finish brewing them.

My vision began to tunnel—a telltale sign of a blood sugar crash from starving.

I forced myself up the stairs and staggered into the living room to grab a glass of warm water.

Only to walk in on Mom beaming as Jaxon and Wyatt shared a fresh batch of cookies she had just baked.

They had each taken half. Not a single crumb was left.

My dad, Silas, caught sight of me. A brief flicker of awkwardness crossed his face, but he quickly masked it.

"We know you don't like sweets, so we didn't save you any."

I forced a stiff smile.

"I love sweets, Dad."

Dad froze for a heartbeat, but only a heartbeat.

With Wyatt impatiently rushing him, he brushed past me and replied over his shoulder.

As his footsteps faded, my composure finally cracked.

My hands clenched into tight fists at my sides, my chest feeling like it was being pierced by a hundred needles.

After finally settling my stomach with some bland food and water, I headed back to my room to crash.

Instead, I opened the door to find my room crammed with random workout equipment.

There was so much junk that there wasn't even an inch of floor space left.

Jaxon's heavy dumbbells were sitting brazenly right on my desk.

My brain buzzed with static.

I couldn't stop myself from glancing back toward the living room, which was still echoing with laughter.

Mom just happened to glance my way.

In that split second, I knew for a fact she saw my embarrassment and sheer helplessness.

But she just offered a dismissive glance and turned her attention back to the boys.

This was far from the first time something like this had happened.