Chapter 3

I looked at her, then over at Pete, not far off, beaming with happiness while our parents fussed over him.

So, apparently, fighting for what I actually deserved just meant I didn't understand gratitude.

I didn't bother arguing with her any further. I just glanced down at the suit I was wearing.

None of this was compensation.

It was a muzzle, meant to keep my mouth shut.

I touched the cold bank card in my pocket, and one thought crystallized in my mind more clearly than it ever had before.

You want to solve everything with money. Fine. I'll show you exactly what money can do.

Once I started college, I put the McGees' black card to full use.

I saw a dentist and got my cavities filled, started going to the gym regularly, and signed up for every finance course I could find.

Before long, I'd transformed so completely that even I barely recognized myself.

My roommate, Ben Royer, had an easygoing, sunny personality.

He'd cup my face in both hands without a hint of self-consciousness and say, "Bro, you really did glow up."

Some nights, while I was cramming through coursework I'd missed during the day, he'd toss a bag of chips down from the top bunk, half asleep, and mutter, "Blake, keep studying like this, and you're gonna ascend to sainthood. Come back down to earth and eat something."

He was the first warmth I'd felt in this unfamiliar city that didn't come with any strings attached.

So, without a second thought, I bought him a full set of Nintendo games.

Pete, meanwhile, had become the brightest rising star in the student council.

He drove around in the sports car Dad had bought him, drumming up sponsorships wherever he went.

Of course, the biggest sponsor was always our family's company.

Whenever we ran into each other on campus, he'd come jogging over, all warmth.

He'd pitch his voice just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

"Bro, you've changed so much, I can barely recognize you. Treating yourself pretty often these days, huh?" He'd laugh.

I pulled my arm free without changing expression. "Not that dramatic."

He'd put on a hurt, understanding look and sigh. "I get it, I get it. You probably want to surprise Mom and Dad. But Dad just called me, said there's some trouble with the business, and you haven't even gone home to check on them."

The story spread, and by the time it made its rounds, it had changed shape entirely.

Now I was the long-lost true heir who only cared about money, out living it up while ignoring my own parents. I was the freshman who cared more about wealth than family, who'd thrown the whole household into chaos over one measly private room.

Brick by brick, an invisible wall went up around me.

One day, Ben stormed back into the dorm and slammed his book down on the desk.

"Pete's whole crew is out there saying you'll do anything for money, and that you're so jealous of him that you keep trying to sabotage him at home!"

I was in the middle of reviewing a finance concept and didn't even look up.

"Say something." Ben was practically vibrating with frustration. "They're dragging your name through the mud! Doesn't that piss you off?"

I finally looked up at his flushed, agitated face, and slid a bookmark into the page I'd been halfway through.

"Would getting angry actually do anything?" I asked him. "Say I picked a fight with them. Then what? Would that shut them up, or would it make my life any better?"

Ben froze. He looked at me with a mix of pity and confusion.

"Still," he said quietly, "that's got to feel awful."

I smiled, closed the book, and set it back on the shelf.

Pete would always be the golden boy everyone fawned over, and I, it seemed, was destined to stay in the corner.

Only this time, I wasn't going to wait around for anyone's charity.

…

Dad's birthday was held at a private club.

By the time I arrived, the place was already lively.

I'd picked out a vintage rosewood comb from a secondhand market, and had the shop owner run a charge of 28,000 dollars on the McGee family card.