Chapter 4

The security looked me up and down with a frown and waved me off dismissively.

"Kid, this isn't a place for you to be. Go play somewhere else."

I froze for a moment, then glanced down at my clothes—a yellowed, worn-out shirt washed so many times the color had faded, and trouser cuffs caked with mud.

No matter how I looked at it, I didn't belong among the people inside.

I subconsciously shrank back a little, a surge of shame welling up inside me.

"Sir, you've misunderstood. I-I'm Joseph and Rebecca's son."

A look of disdain crossed the security guard's face.

"Kind, it's not good to lie at such a young age. I may be new here, but even I know that Joseph and Rebecca's son goes out and comes home with them every single day. Besides, dressed the way you are, you're not very convincing if you're trying to pass yourself off as their son.

I was stunned. I couldn't make sense of what the security guard was saying. I had been in the mountain village the entire time, so how could my parents possibly be going out and coming home with me every day?

After all, I was their only child.

I hurriedly pulled out my ID card to prove my identity to the security guard when a luxury car pulled up beside us.

"Malcolm?"

Kyle Weston, my neighbor and the same age as me, hurriedly jumped out of the car.

"Malcolm, when did you get back? Why aren't you going inside? What are you doing standing out here?"

"I…" I glanced awkwardly at the security guard.

Kyle frowned and took my hand.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

It was only after I got into the Westons' car that I realized Kyle's parents, Ralph Weston and Carol Hewitt, were there too. I greeted them one by one and sat stiffly off to the side.

Mrs. Weston didn't seem to find me off-putting in the slightest and pulled me affectionately into a hug,

"It's been a while, Malcolm. You've grown so much. Your parents really are something else—why do they insist on treating you like this? Honestly, I don't know what they're thinking. How could they send their own son away to suffer while taking in someone else's kid and spoiling him rotten?

"Malcolm, sweetheart, if things ever get tough at home, you can come to us anytime, okay? Come over to our place later, and I'll cook you a whole feast. How does that sound?"

I nodded numbly, a little lost in the face of such warmth.

The Westons had always been kind to me. But my parents didn't like me getting too close to them, because they believed they were a bad influence on me and would ruin me.

In fact, Mom and Dad told me they were the only ones who truly had my best interests at heart.

But was that really true?

I truly couldn't tell anymore, especially after what the security guard and Mrs. Weston had just said. If anything, I was more confused than ever.

Why had my parents brought someone else's child into our home? Why had I never heard them mention it? And who was this other child?

I stared out the car window restlessly and caught sight of the floating comments.

"Wait, Malcolm already knows his parents took Nathan in? I don't remember it happening this soon in the story."

"Poor thing. But his parents only had good intentions. Nathan's parents got divorced, and neither of them wanted to look after him. He was just a little boy all alone with no one, so Mrs. Maxwell—out of the kindness of her heart—brought him home."

"I hope Malcolm doesn't misunderstand his parents over this. They meant well and are kind-hearted people."

I lowered my gaze, not quite sure what I was feeling.

When I learned that the child my parents had brought home was Nathan, I felt a flicker of relief—but mostly sadness.

I was relieved because at least it wasn't some soap-opera nonsense where they'd adopted a stranger to replace me. But it hurt because that someone was Nathan.