Chapter 4

I smiled. "That's strange. Aren't you the heir to this family? How come you don't have access to your own wine cellar?"

Blake's face turned crimson. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Just then, an authoritative voice came from the doorway.

"What's going on in here?"

The man who was technically my father, Richard Livingston, walked in with a dark expression.

Fanny looked as though she'd just found her savior. She hurried over to complain, "Sir, look what Finn—"

Dad cut her off impatiently. His gaze settled on me, tinged with reproach. "Finn, Blake just wants a bottle of wine. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of it?"

"Dad, it belongs to Grandpa. He specifically said no one was allowed to touch it," I reminded him.

"This is my house. I decide what happens here." Something cold flickered in Dad's eyes. He walked over to the wine cellar, pulled a black access card from his pocket, and swiped it over the sensor.

Beep.

"Authorization override."

The lock released.

Dad took out the bottle of Romanee-Conti and handed it to Blake as though he were presenting him with a trophy. "Here. Share it with your friends."

"Thanks, Dad!" Blake immediately perked up, shooting me a triumphant look.

Any doubts among our classmates vanished instantly, replaced by even more enthusiastic praise.

"Your dad is awesome, Blake!"

"Guess there's no question who's really his son!"

Dad's blatant favoritism only made everyone more convinced that Blake was exactly who he claimed to be.

And there I stood amid all the noise, as though I were the outsider who didn't belong.

I stared at Dad's cold, heartless face, feeling nothing but ice inside.

In my previous life, I'd never seen through the ambition hidden beneath his hypocritical facade. I'd always convinced myself that his favoritism toward Blake came from disappointment in me.

It wasn't until he'd personally driven me to ruin that I discovered a shocking secret.

Dad raised his glass, about to toast Blake.

I quietly moved behind him. Once he'd finished his drink, I discreetly took the glass he'd just used. His saliva remained on the rim.

It was the most crucial piece of my plan.

This time, I wasn't going to give him another chance.

Back in my room, I locked the door and made a call.

"Mr. Bennett, it's Finn."

A steady voice answered. "What can I do for you, Finn?"

Patrick Bennett was my grandfather's personal bodyguard, a former Special Forces soldier whose loyalty belonged solely to Grandpa and my mother.

"I'm going to send you a few things. I need you to investigate Blake and Fanny." I paused before adding, "Especially Blake's biological father. I want everything you can find."

In my previous life, I'd begun to suspect there was more to their relationship shortly before I died, but I hadn't lived long enough to uncover the truth.

Now that I'd been given another chance, details I'd overlooked before were coming back to me.

The way Dad favored Blake had never made sense. No employer treated his housekeeper's son that way. It felt more like deliberate compensation—and as though Dad had some use for him.

There had to be a deeper secret behind it.

"Don't worry, Finn. I'll have answers for you within seven days."

Monday morning dawned bright and clear.

My phone rang. It was Grandpa. His energetic voice came through the phone.

"Finn, I donated a library to your school in your name. They're calling it the Finn Stanton Library. The dedication ceremony is this afternoon. I won't be able to make it back in time, so I want you there representing me. Make me proud!"

Warmth spread through my chest as I held the phone.

The same thing had happened in my previous life.

But back then, I'd been so consumed by the pain of being rejected by my father and my so-called brother that I'd barely known how to respond to Grandpa's love.