Part 2I'm the Real Son, and I Hit Back

My sharp retort left Roslyn at a loss for words, her expression turning livid.

"You're still breathing, aren't you? An injury like that will heal in a few days. Why do you have to be so vicious and ruin your own brother's life?" she snapped.

As I watched my parents gang up on me, I almost laughed.

Their own flesh and blood was lying in a hospital bed with his head still bleeding, yet all they cared about was their adopted son's reputation and the family's image.

Whatever hope I'd had left for our so-called family bond died right then and there.

I'd never been the type to take a hit lying down. I believed in an eye for an eye.

If they were determined to protect Matthew, then I'd deal with him myself.

I lowered my gaze, hiding the coldness in my eyes, and forced a weak, obedient smile.

"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry. I must've been so out of it after hitting my head that I had no idea what was going on."

Then I turned to the doctor and deliberately softened my voice. "Doctor, forget about it. I lost my footing and fell. There's no need to call the police. Thank you."

The doctor frowned as if he wanted to say something more, but when he saw that my parents weren't going to budge, he just sighed, put away his phone, and turned to write me a prescription.

Roslyn and Benson both breathed a sigh of relief, a hint of satisfaction finally showing on their faces.

Benson stepped forward to pat me on the shoulder, but I leaned away before he could touch me.

Unfazed, he said flatly, "I'm glad you've come to your senses. We're family. We shouldn't hold grudges against each other. Stay here and get some rest. I'll have Harris make you some soup and bring it over later."

"Stay here and rest?"

I let out a quiet laugh, yanked the IV needle out of the back of my hand, threw off the blanket, and got out of bed.

"Aaron!" Benson exclaimed. "The doctor said you have a mild concussion. You need to stay in the hospital!"

"I'm not staying."

I pulled on my bloodstained school blazer and looked at them. "School is more important."

…

Half an hour later, with blood seeping through the bandage on my forehead, I quietly pushed open the classroom door.

Matthew sat surrounded by a group of classmates. He wore a tailored school uniform and an expensive limited-edition watch. His eyes were slightly red, and he looked like he'd been the one who was wronged.

"Guys, don't say that about Aaron…"

Matthew's soft voice carried clearly across the quiet classroom. "Mr. Carter took Aaron away all those years ago, and he grew up in the middle of nowhere without much of an education. He only hit me yesterday because he was upset. I understand why he did it.

"Please don't shut him out. We just need to be more understanding."

The classmates around him immediately erupted in outrage.

"Matthew, you're way too nice! He's basically a servant's son who got lucky enough to be taken in by your family, and he actually had the nerve to lay a hand on you?"

"Exactly! Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. The second he shows up, we're making him apologize to you in front of everyone!"

A subtle, smug smile tugged at the corner of Matthew's lips.

As I watched him hide behind that flawless mask, I slowly unclenched my fists.

I'd changed my mind. Shoving him down the stairs would be way too easy on him.

Violence could only cause physical pain. Stripping away his facade and shattering the dignity he took such pride in would be the most devastating revenge.

Ignoring the hostile looks thrown my way from inside the classroom, I turned around and walked to the far end of the hallway.

I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

"Hello, my name is Aaron Gould. I'd like to report Matthew Gould for attempted murder."

I hung up and headed straight for the dean of students' office.

Yvonne Winslow, the dean, was notoriously strict and followed every rule to the letter.