Chapter 9
To keep their “Poor Family” video series going, my parents had always acted like they were struggling in front of the camera.
No wonder my father was always filming me at the construction site. Others laughed, saying he was just a doting dad. But the truth was, far uglier–hidden cameras were scattered all over our home, and there were dozens of them!
And I was the only fool who had no idea.
All these years, I worked and bled for the family’s survival. I thought my mother was truly ill. I dropped out of school early to give Rosie a chance at education. I sacrificed without question.
But they didn’t care about five million dollars.
Why would they? That video account alone earned them far more than that every year.
Even that female livestreamer I bumped into at the park last time spoke out to defend my parents.
“I saw it myself,” she said righteously. “His parents, despite their age, were out late at night just to look for him. They begged him to come home, but he yelled at them, insulted them, and flat–out refused to return.”
While the internet grew more vicious towards me, the streamer was praised as brave and kind.
But I remembered what really happened at the park.
After recognizing me, the streamer had a quiet chat with my father. He told her his account had high traffic and offered to collaborate–to share views and exposure. She was intrigued and quickly agreed to take his side.
Apollo posted again, defending me. This time, he included photos of my wounds as evidence.
But my mother hit back online, sobbing and claiming I was disobedient, hated being poor, and tried to cling to a rich woman–only to get beaten up.
The internet exploded again.
[Typical pretty boy trying to live off a sugar mommy!] [Bet he got caught by her husband. Serves him right!] [What a disgrace. His poor mom raised him for this?]
Apollo’s face was dark with rage.
“What kind of parents treat their own child like this?”
I stared at the ceiling, and answered wryly, “Because I’m not their real son.”
He froze. “What did you just say?”
Before I could answer, a loud, frantic knock came from the door.
After Winning
23:49 Sun,
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Soon after, a loud bang sounded as the door was kicked open.
My father, mother, and sister stormed in, their faces twisted with fury.
Before I could react, my father sent a brutal kick straight into my chest. I collapsed to the ground.
My mother screeched, her voice shrill and venomous.
“You bastard! Always stirring up trouble!”
Apollo rushed forward to shield me, placing himself between us.
Clutching my aching stomach, I looked up at them. My voice was quiet but unwavering.
“I never understood why you hated me so much until now. It’s because you were never my real parents.”
“Bullshit!” My father roared, veins bulging on his neck.
“If I’m not your father, then who is? I gave you life–so you’ll damn well do as I say!”
I pulled a photograph from my pocket and tossed it onto the floor.
In the photo was the third young master of the Gibson Corporation.
Silence fell like a heavy curtain.
Their eyes locked onto the picture and their faces turned ghostly pale.
I looked straight at my mother and spoke coldly.
“He looks a lot like you, doesn’t he, Mom? For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why you wanted me dead. But the moment I saw him, I finally got it.”
Suddenly, she let out a high–pitched, manic laugh.
“That’s right!” she shrieked. “You’re a damn bastard! There’s no way you could be my son- you never deserved to be!”
Her
eyes were bloodshot, twisted with hate.
“My son is the rightful heir. And you? You’re just the wretched spawn of that dead woman!” I didn’t flinch and continued, “The current Madam Gibson is your sister, isn’t she? She was once Chairman Gibson’s secretary. She clawed her way to the top and killed my biological mother to get there.”
“That secretary’s third son is your real son.”
“You agreed to raise me so your son could live in luxury as a Gibson heir. And your sister- she hated me. She made you promise to make my life hell. She didn’t want me to survive, and if possible, she wanted me erased entirely.”
Chapter 9
