My Brother’s Spot Sparks a Hidden Identity

"What nonsense are you talking about?"

On the other end of the line, my mom, Christine Smith, sounded both exasperated and amused by the accusation.

"Matthew, are you teasing me again? In this life, I've only ever had you and your brother—how could there possibly be another son?"

Hearing the certainty in her voice, the doubt in my heart quickly dissolved.

Of course. My mother was famous in all of Ardenford's high society as the model wife and perfect mother. Her gentle devotion to my father, Elias Mace, had remained unchanged for thirty years—she was the woman every other rich wife was compared to.

In our circle, scandals about women having affairs or keeping toyboys weren't uncommon, but everyone agreed on one thing—Roger Smith would never be one of them.

"It better be that way," I said coldly, hanging up. Then, I looked up at the arrogant kid in front of me.

He was dressed head-to-toe in flashy designer brands, his accessories piled on carelessly, exuding the cheap gaudiness of a nouveau riche brat.

Suppressing my anger, I asked evenly, "You just said you're the heir of the Smith family?"

"Oh? Another one? What now—calling in backup?" He sneered, crossing his arms. "Yeah, that's right. I'm Roger Smith, heir of the Smith family in Ardenford. What, got a problem with that?"

"Oh, I get it," he scoffed again. "You two are trying to cozy up to my family, huh? Too late for that! Tell me, besides the Smiths, are there any other Smiths even worth mentioning? What a pair of country bumpkins!"

Then, he turned back to my brother, his voice dripping with malice. "Timothy, so what if you've got good grades? So what if you spent a year working hard? My mom says one word, donates a building, and unravels everything you've done, making it worthless!"

My brother, Timothy, lowered his head even further, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Seeing him endure it in silence, I understood instantly. This Smith kid had probably been bullying my brother for a while now.

My father had always disliked ostentation and wanted us to stand on our own abilities. So, Tim and I kept a low profile outside, never revealing our background.

But Tim—quiet, focused only on his studies—had mistaken humility for weakness, and people like Roger took advantage of it.

I gently pulled him behind me and turned my cold gaze back to Roger. "As far as I know, all the paperwork and approvals for the exchange program have already gone through. Replacing someone at the last minute isn't exactly by the rules, is it?"

"Rules?" Roger let out a mocking laugh. With a smug grin, he pulled a stack of documents from his bag and waved them in front of me.

"You mean these? Timothy's application documents? Sorry—never made it to the office. I held onto them myself."