Chapter 3 The Son Who Was Cast Aside

My mother did not look at me. She kept her head lowered, endlessly rubbing the corner of her apron between her fingers. "Clyde, don't take it the wrong way. Your father and I had no choice. Having Mackie adopted into our family was the only way to keep up appearances and protect the family's standing.

"You're away from home most of the year, and the family homestead can only be kept in the family if Mackie is adopted into it. But you're still his older brother. If Mackie ever runs into trouble, you need to help him out."

I was so furious that I actually laughed.

My own mother not only refused to stand up for me, but she was also asking me to keep footing the bill for the person who had replaced me.

Aunt Debbie pulled out a wrinkled handkerchief and hypocritically dabbed at nonexistent tears. "Honestly, I can't bear to give up Mackie either. He's my own flesh and blood, after all. As the older sister, I can only make this painful sacrifice for my brother's family and lineage."

At that, she reached under the table and gave Mack a hard pinch.

Mack immediately understood. He picked up his glass, then dropped to his knees in front of my parents. "Mom! Dad! From now on, I'm your son! I promise I'll take good care of you!"

My father's hands trembled with excitement. He immediately reached down and helped Mack to his feet, his eyes actually turning red. "Good! Good boy!"

My mother wiped away her tears as well.

I stared at the absurd scene before me, feeling nothing but cold all over.

Almost instinctively, I reached into my pocket and gripped the bankbook containing my one million as tightly as I could. My fingernails dug painfully into my flesh, but I was grateful that I hadn't taken the money out yet.

At least I had not been foolish enough to feed my own flesh and blood to this pack of wolves in sheep's clothing.

…

Once everyone had drunk their fill, my father suddenly staggered to his feet and walked into the master bedroom that had been kept locked for years. A moment later, he emerged carrying a small rosewood box.

"Mackie, come here."

Mack immediately put down the chicken bone in his hand, hastily wiped his greasy fingers on his clothes, and hurried over.

In front of everyone, my father opened the box.

Inside was a polished sapphire signet ring.

It belonged to my grandfather. I had heard that it had been passed down through our family for generations and was worth a fortune.

When I was a child, I once burned with a high fever, barely conscious, yet I wanted to see the sapphire signet ring just once. My father had harshly reprimanded me, telling me that it was the Lester family's most precious heirloom and that we could never afford to replace it if I damaged it.

Yet now, he was about to hand that very heirloom to an outsider.

"Mackie, since I'm now your father, this belongs to you." My father's hands trembled, his eyes filled with affection and expectation. "This is the root of our family. Your grandfather left it behind. From now on, it'll be up to you to carry it down to the next generation. Whatever you do, don't let our family line end with us."

Mack stared at the signet ring, greed practically spilling over his eyes. He did not even wait for my father to finish before eagerly reaching out to take it.

"Don't worry, Dad! I'll take good care of it! This is our family heirloom!"

Uncle Homer stared at the ring from the side, his eyes fixed on it. He swallowed hard, though the words that came out were suitably polite. "Oh, Jim, that's far too valuable. Mackie's still just a kid…"

"Kid or no kid, he's the root of the Lester family!" My father waved his hand dismissively and shoved the box straight into Mack's arms.

At that moment, something in my head snapped.

Before my grandfather died, he had held my hand and told me the signet ring was to be mine. My father had been standing right beside him when he said those words. He had heard them clearly.

I shot to my feet, my chair scraping across the floor with a grating shriek.

"Dad, what are you doing?" I stared coldly at the box. "Grandpa made it perfectly clear before he died that the ring was supposed to go to me."

My father slammed his palm onto the table so hard that sauce splashed out of the serving plates.

"Go to you?" He pointed a finger straight at my face, spittle flying as he shouted. "It was left for the descendants of the Lester family! Only Mackie is worthy of having it! You're nothing but an outsider. Who do you think you are to fight over it?"