Chapter 3

"Maybe he just turned off the watch himself," Brent quipped as he grabbed Aubrey in a tight hold. "Why are you so worried? You can't leave. It's Thanksgiving. You promised you'd spend it with me."

Aubrey sighed and patted him on the head. "I'll just go take a look. As long as he's safe, I'll come right back."

"I'll send someone to check on him," Brent insisted, refusing to back down. "You have to stay home with me today!"

Aubrey frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but Brent suddenly grabbed the fruit knife off the table and pressed it against his neck.

"If you dare take one step out that door today, I'll kill myself right in front of you!"

Mom and Dad screamed in panic. Equally alarmed, Aubrey quickly raised her hands and tried to calm him down.

"Okay, okay! I won't go. Just put the knife down first!"

A flash of smug satisfaction crossed Brent's eyes as he tossed the knife aside.

"You just want to check in on him. It's not like you have to do it yourself," he said. "Don't worry. I'll make the arrangements."

Still shaken, Aubrey bent down, picked up the knife, and returned it to the kitchen.

"Don't grab a knife so recklessly again," she said. "What if you get hurt?"

Seeing the worry on her face, a dull ache spread through my chest.

When I was little, she'd always panic whenever I was gone for more than two hours. Back then, she behaved exactly the same way. She would scold me, but the concern on her face was barely contained.

"Do you know how long I've been looking for you? Who told you to run off by yourself? What if something happened?" she would ask.

But ever since Brent had been brought back home, I had become invisible. Even if I deliberately stayed out all night, no one was concerned.

Still in my teens back then, I couldn't understand it. I had asked Aubrey, with tears brimming in my eyes, why she didn't look for me anymore.

She had simply chuckled as she shook her head. "Don't you have a watch with a GPS now, Gary? I've told you before—the watch shows you the way home. You can always find your own way back."

After all these years, those words still echoed in my mind. The things I couldn't wrap my head around back then, I finally understood now.

The way home? The moment Brent returned, I no longer had a home.

The following afternoon, Brent showed Aubrey a video. In it, only my back was visible.

His assistant, Trevor Prescott, asked, "Mr. Gary, would you like to come home?"

Without turning around, "I" replied impatiently, "Tell Mom and Dad that I'm doing great here, and I'm never going back."

"What happened to your watch?" Trevor asked again.

"I turned it off," I answered flatly.

The video was obviously fabricated, but Aubrey didn't notice. She seemingly didn't care what "I" had said, and instead just let out a sigh of relief.

"As long as Gary's okay, then that's all that matters," she said with a smile. "It looks like he's adjusted pretty well to life over there. I'll go bring him back after Christmas."

Brent nearly exploded. "Did you not hear him say he never wants to come back?"

Aubrey shrugged nonchalantly. "It's just a phase. There's no place better than home. He'll grow tired of living there in a few days."

"Tell your assistant to leave Gary some extra money," she added. "Make sure he has enough to spend."

With that, she headed out the door for work, completely missing the resentment brewing in Brent's eyes.

The moment the front door shut, Brent immediately called Trevor.

"Find a random place and bury Gary's body. Damn it! He's already dead, and my sister still can't stop thinking about him! What a bastard!"

Trevor had clearly never done something like this before, and his voice trembled slightly as he asked, "What… What if someone finds out?"

"What are you scared of? It's not like you killed him. If anything, you're doing a good deed by burying him!"

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and an eerie, cold sneer curled across his lips.

"Oh, right, bring me his phone too. Aubrey will definitely message him. If nobody replies, she'll start getting suspicious."