Chapter 4

I might as well have been an orphan.

Panic immediately flashed across Yvette's eyes.

I turned and went back to my room.

"Owey, what's wrong? Owey!"

Oh, it seemed Owen had another episode.

But I could not be bothered with the chaos behind me. I went upstairs, returned to my room, and shut the door in one smooth motion.

I turned on the light and sat down in my chair.

As I thought back over the past, I did not know whether my parents had ever loved me. Perhaps they had, once. But for as long as I could remember, the only image in my mind had been of my parents and sister constantly revolving around Owen.

The thing they said to me most often was that Owen's health was poor, and since I was his older brother, I had to give in to him.

Yes. When Owen was seven, he had inexplicably begun experiencing occasional heart problems. From that point onward, there was practically nothing the family would not do for him.

He liked my room, so I had to give it to him. He thought the view from the second floor was beautiful but could not decide which room he liked better, so I had to move into an empty staff's quarters on the first floor, while he could choose whichever of the two second-floor bedrooms he wanted.

As for Yvette, she was the eldest, so naturally she got to keep all the privileges that came with being the firstborn.

But I was only a year older than Owen, too.

Only Grandma had ever treated me well. She made my favorite barbecue pork ribs for me, spent her own money to buy me the violin I loved, and argued with my parents until they finally agreed to let me learn the violin.

Otherwise, the moment Owen cried that he was "stupider than Ollie and couldn't play the violin," Mom and Dad would dismiss my request to learn the violin.

I had also grown more accustomed to living at Grandma's house. It was the only place where I had ever felt like I was genuinely loved by my family.

However, five years ago, Grandma passed away. Mom and Dad said it would look improper for me to live on my own, so they made me come home. But what difference did it make whether I came back or stayed away?

It had not changed the fact that I was still ignored.

…

After everything that had happened over the past two days, I realized I could not stay at home any longer. Otherwise, there was no telling what kind of trouble Owen would cause next.

So on the third day, I carried the luggage I had packed and headed out.

Mom and Dad saw me, and both of them frowned.

"Ollie, I know you've been treated unfairly these past few days," Mom said tiredly. "But you also hit Yvette. Your father and I already talked to her about it. Can you stop throwing a tantrum and running away?"

Was the unfair treatment I had suffered really limited to the past few days?

Before I could say anything, Yvette's voice came from behind me.

"What, is His Highness not satisfied with just assault? Now he wants to run away from home too?"

She and Owen came downstairs as well.

There was a piece of gauze taped across Yvette's forehead, and she gave me a cold snort.

I was a little surprised. I had calculated the timing and come downstairs early on purpose. Normally, they should still have been asleep at this hour.

Dad cleared his throat. "Owey has a cultural performance at school today. He'll be performing onstage, so we're going to watch him. Ollie, you… are you heading out?"

Oh, so Owen had a performance that day. No wonder everyone was up and ready.

"Owey has poor health, so we're all going with him. You don't need to sulk about it," Yvette said unhappily. "I remember you're off today. Why are you going back to school so early? What are you making a fuss about now?"

I took two steps back. "There's something I need to take care of at school."

Yvette pressed on. "What is it?"

"It's none of your business."

"Enough is enough, Oliver Hayes!" Yvette raised her voice. "I admit I crossed the line, but that was because you were obviously sulking and deliberately giving me the cold shoulder. If you'd just talked to me properly, would I have acted that way? Besides, didn't I let you hit me back?"

As she spoke, she grew increasingly angry. "No. You're coming with us to watch Owey's performance. Mom, Dad, and I have simply spoiled you rotten!"

Seeing her charge toward me, I took two more steps back and quickly pulled the utility knife I had previously bought from my bag, pointing it at her.

Yvette froze in shock. "I'm your sister! What do you take me for?"