Chapter 2

There had never been a place for me in this family. I should've gotten used to that a long time ago, shouldn't I?

I picked up my phone and called my mentor.

"Professor Everard, I accept. In a week, I'll move to Valdoria and focus on my studies there. I'm never coming back..."

The next morning, Mom came into my room, already sounding annoyed.

"Bennett, you really shouldn't have walked off to your room yesterday while your father was disciplining you. Do you know how much that undermined him? You've really let me down—"

She stopped mid-sentence when she saw the clothes I'd taken off.

The lights had been too dim the night before for her to notice.

Only now did she see that my light gray sweater was almost completely soaked in bright red blood.

It was only then that she began to understand what I'd been through.

Dad came in and saw it too, and his lips gave the faintest tremble.

"Bennett, I wasn't paying enough attention. I didn't know—"

I stared at the ceiling, my voice cold.

"Could you leave? I need to change."

They never noticed me.

If Alistair so much as scraped his hand, they'd notice right away and rush him to the hospital.

But when the wound on my knee got infected and oozed again and again, they pretended not to see it. They even thought I was faking it to compete with Alistair for their attention.

They weren't careless. They just didn't care.

Noticing how cold I'd become, my parents looked panicked for once. I used to be so eager around them.

Their eyes darted anxiously to the dining table, where I used to put a fresh sunflower every single day. They'd always thought it was pointless.

Dad spoke up quickly.

"Bennett, there's no sunflower on the table yet today. How about I drive you to buy one later?"

"No need."

Every day, I used to set out a sunflower to keep my spirits up, determined to make my parents finally love me.

I didn't need to anymore.

I didn't care anymore.

Three days later was my birthday, and Alistair's.

Twenty-three years ago that day, we'd been switched by mistake at the hospital, and that was the start of a nightmare that lasted twenty-three years.

Earl Pruitt, the man who raised me, abused me in ways no child should ever have to endure. His wife, Darlene, made my life a living hell.

Just thinking about it made it hard to breathe.

Mom excitedly wheeled a huge cake into the living room.

Only Alistair's name was written across that enormous cake. Mine was nowhere on it.

The staff set off party poppers all at once.

Dad placed the only birthday hat on Alistair's head.

"Happy twenty-third birthday, son! If it weren't for that mix-up twenty-three years ago, we never would've gotten such a wonderful boy!"

Mom chimed in.

"That's right! Thank goodness that nurse mixed you up. That's how you came into our lives. We should thank her!"

My heart sank, and I clenched my fists as hard as I could.

The mistake I resented more than anything was, to them, a blessing.

I looked around at the staff jostling to hand Alistair their presents. They were the same people who used to warn me.

"Don't even try to compete with Alistair for attention!"

"Got it? There's only one heir in this house. As far as Mr. and Mrs. Holloway are concerned, you're just a servant with a slightly better title. Know your place!"

Now they were all smiles around Alistair, practically groveling.

Alistair stood in the middle of the crowd and raised an eyebrow at me in triumph.

Then everyone cheered together.

"Happy birthday, Alistair!"