Chapter 2

Mom said it as though the explanation should have been obvious.

I stared at her.

She looked flustered. Guilty about getting caught, maybe. But sorry? Not even a little.

I dug my nails into my palm.

Part of me wanted to overturn the table, demand an explanation, and tear the picture-perfect family gathering apart.

I didn't.

Without another word, I picked up my box, went to my room, and shut the door.

Only then did I cry.

For ten years, I'd heard the same things in my own home.

"Logan doesn't have parents. Poor boy."

"We have to give him extra love."

"Asher, you're his older brother. Be the bigger person."

I'd believed them. More than that, I'd done everything they asked.

But today, for the first time, I wondered whether I was the one who didn't really belong to this family.

***

I tossed the box into a corner.

The card was still clenched in my hand. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the words for a long time.

Ten years.

It had been ten years since my family found me and brought me home.

I'd spent every one of those years trying to prove I deserved to be there.

Top of my class. Late nights at the office that stretched into dawn. Once I joined the family business, I never let myself slack off for a second.

I'd pulled the company back from the brink and secured contracts Dad had spent three years chasing without success.

I thought if I worked hard enough, eventually they'd see me.

But people who didn't want to see you would always find a way to look past you.

I drew a slow breath.

Enough.

From now on, winning my family's approval would no longer be the purpose of my life.

I stood up to leave. My fingers had just closed around the doorknob when voices drifted through the gap beneath the door.

Logan sounded close to tears.

"Mom, Asher must hate me now. What am I going to do? He'll never help me again."

Nora soothed him. "He won't hate you. You know Asher isn't like that."

Mom chimed in. "It's nothing. He'll be fine by tomorrow. Don't blame yourself, Logan."

Then came Dad's voice, low and absolute.

"Don't worry about it, Logan. That spot on the project was always meant for you. If Asher throws a fit over it, I'll stop calling him my son."

My hand froze on the doorknob.

All four of them were sitting in the living room, comforting Logan.

Nobody had thought to check on me.

Worse, they'd casually promised him the very project I'd worked myself to exhaustion to win.

They sounded like a real family.

A bitter smile crossed my face.

I wanted to see just how far their favoritism went.

I stepped into the adjoining study and turned on Nora's computer.

For the first password, I tried her birthday. Wrong.

Then the date our company was founded. Wrong again.

I hesitated before entering Logan's birthday: May 3, 2000.

The screen unlocked.

Her wallpaper was a family photograph.

Dad. Mom. Nora. Logan.

The four of them were grinning at the camera on a beach vacation on Marisol Island.

I stared at the picture, unable to name what I felt.

The four of us, my real family, had never taken a photograph like that together. Not once, since my family found me after all those years I'd been abducted.

A couple of years ago, I'd finally worked up the nerve to suggest taking a proper family portrait.

Mom had turned me down.

"Logan lost his parents not that long ago. A family portrait might bring back painful memories," she'd said. "He's had such a hard time emotionally. He's only just started getting better. Let's not upset him."