The Fake Son's Victory
“Why are you calling him Mr. Caleb? You should call him your precious son.”
As he joked, he kept watching my face, waiting for my reaction.
I didn’t say anything.
But our classmates crowded around us, gasping and shouting. Phone cameras were already raised, their lenses flashing under the lights.
“Oh my God, Caleb Moore, isn’t that your family’s housekeeper, Mrs. Zimmer?”
“The real heir and the fake heir have been right next to us this whole time?”
“Hurry, record this!”
Countless looks of disgust landed on me.
It was as if I really were the fake heir from some drama, the one who had stolen someone else’s place and used his parents’ love to get away with anything.