My parents had always played favorites.

On my birthday, the house was completely empty.

Meanwhile, my older brother, Howard Moore, posted a nine-photo grid on social media, showing off a huge birthday cake. In every picture, Mom and Dad were gathered around him, smiling like they couldn’t be prouder.

I called them.

Laughter poured through the phone from the other end. Still, I gathered every bit of courage I had and asked softly, “Why didn’t I even get a happy birthday?”

The line went silent for a second.

Then Mom’s bright, smiling voice came through.

“Because Howard is handsome. Taking him out makes us look good. But you? Those hooded eyes and that bulbous nose. Honestly, if we didn’t feel sorry for you, we would’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago.”

Howard took the phone from her and said gently, “You know you’re adopted, right? Did you really think you were one of us?”

I stood there for a long time, too stunned to move.

After that, I stopped talking.

But deep down, I still craved the love of my biological parents. So I secretly made a post online, looking for my biological family.

I didn’t expect Howard to find it.

He took a screenshot and sent it to the school’s anonymous gossip account.

“The fake Moore kid is looking for his parents. Anyone lose an ugly little kid?”

I cried for a long time.

Then late that night, I walked past their bedroom door, which had been left slightly open.

Howard’s laughter floated out, clear and bright.

“He actually believed it! This is hilarious! Let’s hire someone to pretend to be his parents. I can’t wait to see him on his knees, begging us.”

Dad took a sip of his tea.

“Do whatever you want.”

Mom added, “Just don’t go too far.”

Outside the door, my fingers slowly loosened around the doorknob.

Howard Moore moved fast.

The very next day during recess, he called me out of the classroom right in front of everyone. “Your birth mom is here,” he announced, a mocking smirk plastered across his face.

A woman huddled in the corner of the hallway. Her fingers twisted nervously around the stretched-out hem of her faded shirt as she stammered, “H-Hello, Mr. Caleb…”

Howard laughed.

“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.

I didn’t try to explain.

I only looked at Mrs. Zimmer and asked, “Should we do a DNA test?”

Mrs. Zimmer panicked. Her lips trembled, and she could only look to Howard for help.

“What DNA test?”

Howard grabbed my shoulders and turned me toward the glass window.

“Look at yourself. Look at those hooded eyes and that bulbous nose. You two look exactly alike. It’s like you came out of the same mold.”

Ever since I was brought back from the countryside, Howard had picked apart everything about me.

He said I was ugly.

He said I was stupid.

He said I didn’t look like Mom and Dad’s real son.

Back then, I was still too young. All I knew how to do was cry.

But the truth was, I had secretly compared us before.

When I was six, Howard smeared lipstick all over my face and took pictures of me.

Then he called me, “Ugly freak.”

Dad laughed so hard on the couch that he could barely sit up.

I cried and went to Mom, hoping she would stand up for me.

But she only said, “Howard is so handsome. Of course he’s allowed to be a little spoiled.”

I didn’t know how to argue with that.

So I stood in front of the mirror and tried my hardest to make my eyes look bigger.

Back then, I really thought things might change if my eyes became as big as Howard’s.

Maybe then I would look handsome too.

Maybe then Mom and Dad would finally like me.

When I was ten, Howard tore up my perfect test paper.

I cried as I tried to piece it back together.

Mom happened to walk by and only said, “Howard is the pride of this family. Just let him have his way.”

On my twelfth birthday, I pretended to run away from home.

I imagined Mom and Dad realizing I was missing and rushing out to find me.

But no one came.

Not even after dark.

Cold and hungry, I had no choice but to drag myself home.

When I got back, they were filming Howard doing a street dance routine.

Dad didn’t even look up.

“Had enough fun running around outside? At least you still know how to come home.”

I instinctively argued, “I wasn’t out playing…”

Howard cut me off with a smile.

“Caleb, I saw you go to the arcade with a few classmates.”

I knew he was lying.

But I had no proof.

All I could do was tremble and say, “I didn’t.”

“That’s enough,” Dad snapped impatiently. “Would Howard really make something like that up?”

My stomach growled again and again.

Only then did Mrs. Zimmer rub her hands together awkwardly and say, “I’m sorry, Mr. Caleb. We fed the leftovers to the dog.”

I was so hungry that my voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Can you make me a bowl of pasta?”

“No,” Dad said coldly. “Howard gets a midnight snack because he’s weak. Who are you to compare yourself to him?”

“But…”

I tried to explain, but Mom cut me off.

“You were the one who lost track of time playing outside. Who are you blaming? Go back to your room.”

In the middle of the night, Howard opened my bedroom door.

He stood there on purpose, biting into chips with loud, crisp crunches.

My stomach betrayed me and growled again.

“Want some?”

Howard held the bag of chips in front of me and gave it a little shake.

I swallowed and nodded.

“Then bark like a dog. If you sound convincing, I’ll give you some.”

My stomach cramped from hunger.

I closed my eyes and forced out a humiliating little bark.

“Woof.”

“Louder. I didn’t hear you.”

“Woof!”

Howard grinned.

He picked up a chip and held it out to me.

Just as I reached for it, the chip slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

His slipper came down on it perfectly, crushing it under his foot.

“Oops. Sorry.”

He tilted his head, still smiling.

“It fell on the floor, but you can still eat it. Dogs like eating things off the floor, don’t they?”

My whole body burned with shame.

I didn’t know where the courage came from. I lunged at him and grabbed the bag of chips from his hands.

Then, like I was starving, I poured the chips into my mouth as fast as I could.

Howard just stood there, smiling sweetly as he let me take them.

Then, in the next second, he burst into tears.

“Mom, Dad, Caleb stole my food!”

Tears clung to his long lashes, making him look pitiful and innocent.

So Mom called me a thief.

Dad slapped me so hard my ears rang.

Even then, I forced myself to swallow the chips in my mouth.

Because I never wanted to feel that hungry again.

In the end, just like every other time, Mom and Dad locked me in the dark storage room.

They didn’t give me breakfast the next morning either.

The next day in gym class, the sun was glaringly bright.

When I collapsed, the back of my head hit the concrete with a dull thud.

I was bleeding before anyone even reacted.

Mrs. Zimmer was still stammering through the lines she’d memorized.

“When I gave birth to you, I planned to switch you with Howard. But I got caught. Mr. and Mrs. Moore took pity on you and still raised you as their younger son…”

Halfway through, she forgot the rest.

Her face turned bright red from embarrassment.

I looked at her and said calmly, “Mom.”

Then I took Mrs. Zimmer’s arm and went home with her.

When Mom saw us, she frowned.

Still, she smiled and said, “Oh? Caleb found his real mother?”

I nodded calmly.

Dad played along too.

“In that case, shouldn’t he move out of our house and go back to his real parents?”

Before I could say anything, Howard eagerly packed my things for me.

He threw my suitcase down the stairs.

“No need to thank me.”

I looked at the suitcase.

“This is all I have?”

“Mm-hmm.” Howard shrugged. “Your clothes and everything else were bought with our family’s money. You didn’t think you could take them with you, did you?”

I opened the suitcase.

The important things were still inside.

So I closed it again.

“I have one more request.”

Howard immediately shouted, “What request? If you’re asking for money, we’re not giving you any.”

“I want my name removed from anything that ties me to this family.”

Mom froze for a second.

She looked at Dad. After he gave a small nod, she went upstairs to get the paperwork.

And just like that, the Moores cut me loose.

When I saw my name on that single, separate document, the first thing I felt wasn’t sadness.

It was relief.

I was about to leave when Howard blocked my way.

“Wait. What about the allowance Mom and Dad gave you? Hand it over.”

I paused and looked at Mom and Dad.

They both avoided my eyes.

Howard urged, “Hurry up. I get two thousand a month. You must have gotten plenty too.”

“Howard.”

My voice was light.

“If Mom and Dad had ever given me an allowance, I wouldn’t have been so hungry that I couldn’t even buy breakfast. I wouldn’t have collapsed in gym class.”

After saying that, I walked around him and headed for the door.

The moment the front door closed behind me, I heard Howard say regretfully, “Aw, why didn’t he get on his knees and beg us? That was boring.”

Mom sounded a little worried.

“Honey, what if Caleb really doesn’t come back?”

Dad flipped through his newspaper and said carelessly, “He will. Once Howard gets tired of playing, we’ll just tell him the truth. After all, would he rather be the housekeeper’s son or the son of a vice president? Even an idiot knows which one to choose.”

How ridiculous.

After tearing me apart so completely, how could they still think I’d stay right where they left me and wait for them?

Maybe because she knew the whole thing was an act, Mrs. Zimmer didn’t make things too hard for me.

She cleaned out a small room and let me stay there.

Without Howard around to torment me, I actually slept better at night. My grades improved too.

One day, our teacher told us there would be a parent-teacher conference.

My classmates looked at me and started teasing.

“Oh, Caleb, is your housekeeper mom coming?”

I didn’t say anything.

I just lowered my head and kept working through one practice test after another.

It didn’t matter anyway.

Ever since I was little, there had never been a parent sitting in my seat at those conferences.

Once, I got first place in my class and begged Mom and Dad to attend the parent-teacher meeting for me.

But they only said, “Caleb, you’re so sensible. You don’t need us to worry about you, right?”

Then they both rushed to attend Howard’s meeting, even though his grades were at the bottom of the class.

I wanted Mom and Dad to worry about me too.

So on the next exam, I deliberately filled in the wrong answers and scored even lower than Howard.

What waited for me afterward was both of them beating me.

On the day of the parent-teacher conference, I passed by Howard’s classroom and heard his teacher speaking earnestly.

“College entrance exams are coming up soon. With Howard’s grades, he won’t even get into community college.”

“I know you’re planning to send Howard abroad, but he only scored three points on his foreign language exam.”

Three points?

I couldn’t help it. A laugh slipped out.

Howard immediately looked at me, his eyes full of hatred and calculation.

His revenge always came fast.

When I returned to my classroom, I saw Mrs. Zimmer rushing in.

“I’m sorry, teacher. I’m late.”

She had probably just come back from grocery shopping. There was still a strong fishy smell clinging to her clothes.

My classmates covered their noses and looked at me with disgust.

But when the teacher saw her, he casually praised me.

“Caleb has improved a lot. He went from the top ten in class to third place…”

It was clearly a compliment.

But Mrs. Zimmer slapped me across the face.

Then she shouted viciously, “How could you score so low? I raised you for nothing!”

A snicker came from outside the window.

I looked over and saw Howard holding up his phone, waving at me with contempt.

That night, the video was posted at the top of the school gossip page.

I became famous across the whole school.

Wherever I went, people pointed and whispered. Even during lunch, someone would “accidentally” bump into me for no reason, sending my food spilling all over the floor.

When I got home, I saw a blanket laid out on the balcony.

Mrs. Zimmer stammered, “You little brat. From now on, you sleep out here.”

In the middle of the night, I woke up freezing.

Only then did I realize there was a gap under the balcony door. Cold air had been pouring in all night.

By morning, my head was pounding.

I looked at Mrs. Zimmer and called out weakly, “Mrs. Zimmer, I think I have a fever. Can you take me to the hospital?”

She snapped, “Sleep it off. You expect me to waste money over a little fever?”

Through the blur of my fever, I heard her call my parents.

“Mr. Moore, Caleb has a fever.”

“Mm. I know.”

“But Howard said not to take him to the hospital.”

“Then listen to Howard. It’s just a cold. He’ll be fine.”

Tears slid down my face.

So to Mom and Dad, a fever of 104 was just a cold.

If I died like this, would they even be sad?

No.

They would only be relieved that they had one less burden.

I forced myself out of bed and took some cold medicine.

Mrs. Zimmer didn’t stop me.

She only quietly called someone to seal the gap.