No one knew that my parents' favoritism toward Ethan was not just preference—it was a deliberate choice. Even though I, their real son, had been found, it had changed nothing. The heir had already been decided long ago.

Compared to him, I was nothing more than dust beneath their feet.

And my father...

The moment he heard that Ethan had arrived for his checkup, he dropped everything and rushed over. His long strides were filled with urgency, his usual composed demeanor faltering for the first time.

Then, his eyes landed on me.

A flicker of panic flashed across his face before he quickly schooled his expression into something more neutral.

"Owen? What are you doing here?"

His voice was steady, but there was an underlying tension to it.

Before I could answer, he quickly added, "I came to get your medicine and while I was at it, I brought your brother for a checkup."

Afraid I would take it the wrong way, he hastily explained, "Don't misunderstand, son. Given your current condition, we can't afford to let anything happen to your brother. The company needs an heir—I had no choice but to schedule this checkup for him."

I swallowed my bitterness and forced a smile.

"I understand. It's my fault for being useless. At least with my brother here, he can help share the burden for the family."

Relief visibly washed over my father's face.

He reached out and gently patted my head. The gesture should have been reassuring. It should have made me feel like his son. But now, all it did was solidify the distance between us.

"Owen, you're still the most understanding one." He smiled. "Once the shareholders' meeting is over, I'll finally be able to retire. By then, how about I take you and your mother on a trip abroad?"

"If there's a place you like, we can even settle down there. A good mood will help with your recovery."

Just then, the phone screen on my wheelchair lit up.

Out of the corner of his eye, my father caught a glimpse of the notification.

His smile faltered.

"A plane ticket?" His voice dipped into suspicion. "Owen, why did you buy a ticket?"

I picked up my phone and casually swiped away the message. "What ticket? It was probably just an ad from an airline."

My father let out a breath of relief, not thinking much of it. With a slight nod, he personally ordered a driver to take me home. He didn't question me further and I didn't offer any explanations.

As soon as I reached the front door, a pile of packages crowded the steps. Large, heavy boxes wrapped in luxurious packaging bore my mother's name as the recipient. The sheer number of them made the entrance feel suffocating.

Curious, I leaned forward and carefully tore open the edge of one package. Inside, I found a sleek, branded laptop—the latest model, still in its factory packaging. I opened another. This time, it was a property deed for a high-end river-view villa in a prime location, the kind that was nearly impossible to purchase without deep connections.

Every single one of these gifts had a small tag attached.

For Ethan.

The weight of realization pressed heavily on my chest, but before I could process it, I heard approaching footsteps. I quickly set the package down and adjusted my expression just as my mother appeared at the doorway.

She forced a smile, but the corners of her lips trembled slightly. "Owen, when did you go out? I've been so busy I didn't even notice." Her eyes flickered to the half-opened package and for a brief second, panic flashed across her face. "These are just some office supplies for your dad. They must have been sent here by mistake. Don't touch them. Come on, I'll help you inside so you don't hurt yourself."

She spoke hurriedly, her words piling on top of each other as if she was trying to drown out any further questions. But I didn't ask anything. There was no point.

I nodded silently and followed her back inside.

Later that evening, I ate the warm soup she had specially prepared for me, but my heart had already turned ice-cold.

For the next three days, my parents were busy preparing a grand celebration banquet for Ethan. They spent their time coordinating with the hotel, finalizing the guest list and arranging the perfect event. To them, nothing was more important.

Meanwhile, I drank the medicines my parents gave me—though I already knew they had been switched with just vitamins. I quietly made the final revisions to my proposal, checking and rechecking every detail. But no amount of preparation could have readied me for what happened next.

***

The day of the shareholders' meeting arrived. I dressed carefully, making sure I looked as professional as possible. Even if I couldn't stand, I wanted to be taken seriously.

But they never even left me with the last shred of opportunity.

Ethan was the first to present. I listened absentmindedly at first, assuming his proposal would be the typical corporate nonsense. But the moment his project proposal appeared on the massive screen, I froze.

It was identical to mine.

Every. Single. Detail.

A chill spread through my veins. My mind went blank for a second, refusing to process what was happening. My fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms.

How? How did he get it?

When the presentation ended, the entire room erupted into applause. My father was the first to stand, clapping enthusiastically, his expression brimming with pride. His smile stretched wide, his satisfaction almost glowing.

Everyone praised Ethan for his talent, calling his project innovative and promising. They spoke of his limitless future, his potential to lead the company into a new era.

And me? I wasn't even given a glance.

My throat tightened, but before I could do anything, Ethan walked toward me and gripped the handle of my wheelchair, pushing me toward the stairwell. His grasp was firm as he maneuvered me into the isolated space.

Once we were alone, his mask slipped.

He glanced down at my legs, his lips curling into a contemptuous smirk. "What's the matter? Even after becoming a cripple, you still refuse to stay put? You just had to come out and steal the spotlight?"

My entire body tensed.

Ethan crouched slightly, bringing his face closer to mine. "Seeing your own proposal with my name on it while you don't even have the chance to stand on that stage—does it hurt?"

The air between us grew suffocating.

His voice lowered to a whisper, dripping with mockery. "Owen, if I were you, I would've been better off dying in that orphanage. At least there, you could still walk. That's far better than this—being unable to even stand."

My face gradually turned pale. My fingers trembled slightly, but I clenched them into fists to suppress my emotions.

Ethan wasn't finished.

"Oh, right. You still don't know, do you?" He chuckled. "It was Dad who stole your proposal and sent it to me."

The words sent a sharp jolt through me.

He leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting against my ear. "He said that you're nothing more than an orphanage boy. Showing up at the meeting would only bring shame to the Griffith Family."

My heart pounded violently against my ribcage.

"Your education, your looks—you can't compare to me in anything. And the parents you fought so hard to reunite with? They're the ones who crippled you. Even I feel sorry for you."

Just as I was about to react, he suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. Caught off guard, my balance wavered and I tumbled down a few steps with Ethan. The sound of our bodies hitting the stairs echoed sharply in the empty stairwell.

The commotion drew my father over. His face turned red with fury the moment he arrived.

Without hesitation, he slapped me across the face.

A sharp sting spread across my cheek. My head snapped to the side from the impact, my vision momentarily blurring.

"You disgraceful brat! What do you think you're doing? That's your brother! How could you lay a hand on him?"

I hadn't even gotten up when Ethan, ever so considerate, pushed my wheelchair toward me and helped me back into it. With a magnanimous expression, he said, "It's alright. Owen is still young. Seeing me present while he wasn't allowed on stage—it's normal for him to feel upset. I don't blame him."

The shareholders, who had followed the noise, exchanged confused glances.

"What brother? The Griffith Family has another son?"

"Mr. Peter, you never mentioned this to us."

My father's face darkened. He hesitated, clearly caught off guard.

Then, he forced a stiff smile and answered, "No, he's just an adopted child. A foster son, that's all. He wants to join the company, but it was just a misunderstanding. Sorry for making everyone confused..."