Chapter 2

I stared into Dad's eyes and demanded, "Give me 200 dollars. I need medical treatment."

After hesitating over and over, Dad reluctantly pulled a 200-dollar bill from a wallet stuffed with black credit cards and held it out to hand it to me. But Clover stopped him.

"What kind of sickness costs that much money, Moron? You know how hard Mom and Dad work to make a living; are you just making this up so you can scam them out of money and gorge yourself on expensive food?"

That was the reality.

My name was Moron Shaw, while my brother's name was Clover. Mom and Dad made their favoritism crystal clear from the day we were born, but it took me nearly 20 years to finally see the truth for what it was.

I softly said, "It's stomach cancer. I need chemotherapy."

The moment Dad heard, he immediately tucked the 200 dollars away and sadly said, "I can't believe you've learned to lie at such a young age, Moron. When did you become so lazy and shameless that you'd lie to me for money?

"There's no history of cancer in our family, so who do you think you're fooling?"

As I watched my last hope of survival disappear back into Dad's wallet, panic took over. My body lunged toward him before my brain could even process what I was doing, and I desperately reached out to snatch the bills over.

The next second, a massive force kicked me hard against the wall.

Clover had kicked me right in the stomach. Blood mixed with the food I had eaten earlier came spewing out of my mouth.

While Mom and Dad were stunned, Clover scoffed disdainfully. "Don't let him fool you; that's probably just fake blood.

"All the money in this family belongs to me anyway, so who does he think he is to take that much money away?"

The pain was so intense that I couldn't even straighten my back. Left with no choice, all I could do was crawl forward amid the filth and grab the hem of Dad's pants.

"I just need… 200 dollars… Please… Just give it to me…"

I was still the son Dad raised, after all. For a moment, he looked like he was about to soften, but Mom snatched his wallet away and sighed.

"Our money has to go toward Clover's tuition, Moron. He won't be able to go to school if we're short by these 200 dollars.

"Stop making a scene and behave. Do you really have the heart to see him end up like you, doing dirty jobs and getting looked down on everywhere he goes?"

I looked at her in shock. So, did that mean I deserved to live a wretched, lowly life?

On my phone, my doctor, Benedict Cummings, was pressing me for the next chemotherapy payment.

"I've done my best to delay your payment until tomorrow, Mr. Shaw… You need at least two rounds of chemotherapy for it to have any effect."

I clenched my teeth and decided that after Mom and Dad fell asleep, I would sneak in and steal the 200 dollars.

But their bedroom door wasn't closed, and through the tiny crack, I overheard their conversation.

Mom said, "Honey, I don't know why, but tonight I couldn't stop feeling like the steak would've been a complete waste if Moron ended up eating it. I'd rather feed it to our dog!

"Also, none of Clover's clothes cost less than 2,000 dollars, but whenever I think about giving Moron money, I feel miserable even if it's just 200 dollars. Why do you think I feel that way?"

I let out a bitter laugh. It all came down to blatant favoritism anyway.

Dad replied, "It's not your fault, honey. Clover is smart, charming, and naturally lovable, while Moron makes me sick every time I see him acting all timid and pathetic.

"We should've listened to the doctor back then and aborted him. He's nothing but a cursed, annoying leech."

My eyes turned red-rimmed.

Having been raised poor, I never fought back when other kids beat me up because I feared my parents wouldn't be able to afford the compensation.

Everyone at school knew that there was an idiot who wouldn't fight back or argue when insulted. Even stray dogs on the street seemed to dare to kick me around. Yet now, Mom and Dad blamed me for acting all timid and cowardly.

…

In the end, I didn't steal the 200 dollars.

Instead, I sold the only birthday gift Mom and Dad had ever given me. It was a camera—a piece of junk Clover had discarded, but it still managed to fetch 3,000 dollars.

When I went to the hospital to pay, Benedict's face lit up with joy the moment he saw me.

"Mr. Shaw, right? Fantastic! I have great news!"