Chapter 2
He saw me
For a split second, he looked surprised, but then his expression shifted into a smirk.
He stopped his motorcycle and gave me a once–over, like I was some kind of stray dog that had wandered into his territory.
“Well, look who figured it out,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery.
“Not as clueless as I thought, huh?”
I froze. He knew. He knew who I was.
“Why?” My voice cracked as I stared at him.
“Why would they do this?”
“Jason,” I said, my voice rising, “am I some kind of adopted charity case?”
“Or–what? Some messed–up science experiment you’re all running?”
Jason tilted his head, watching me like I was a puzzle he’d already solved. Then he raised one finger, wagging it back and forth. “Nope. You’re one of us. Flesh and blood. The real deal.”
I blinked, stunned, as he continued, his smirk growing colder.
“And you wanna know why you got the short end of the stick?”
He leaned forward, his voice dropping into something almost gleeful.
“Because I’m the heir. I’m the only one who matters. You?” He scoffed.
“You’re just… extra.”
I stared at him, the words not quite registering.
“You’re a minute older than me,” he said, almost spitting the words.
“One lousy minute. And for that, you think you get to compete with me? This?”
He waved a hand toward the mansion behind him.
“This isn’t your place. So do us both a favor and go back to whatever little corner of the world you crawled out of.”
I clenched my fists, swallowing the lump in my throat as he continued, clearly enjoying himself.
“Oh, and don’t give me that pathetic look. Mom and Dad raised you, didn’t they?”
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Reborn, My Family Tried to Bury Me, So I Burned It All Down!
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“You didn’t starve, right? That counts for something.”
He started up his bike again, revving the engine before throwing one last line over his shoulder.
“By the way stop bothering Grandpa and Grandma.”
“They’re too old for this little drama of yours. Stay in your lane.”
With that, Jason sped off toward the mansion gates, leaving me standing there, stunned and breathless.
I stayed rooted in place for a long moment, staring at the house, at the pristine driveway, at the life I was clearly never meant to be a part of.
All this time, I’d thought maybe I was the problem–that I wasn’t good enough for them to love. But now?
Now, I realized I was never even in the running.
I turned and walked away.
Back at home, I picked up my phone and called Dad.
“Dad, are you coming home for dinner tonight?”
I asked, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.
“Sorry, Emma,” he said, sounding distracted.
“I’m working late tonight. Triple holiday pay, you know how it is. Your mom’s working, too.”
In the background, I could hear the unmistakable rumble of Jason’s motorcycle.
I let out a soft “mm–hmm” before hanging up, my décision already made.
I packed my bags that night.
I didn’t have much–just a few clothes and the essentials.
Before leaving, I printed out the photo I’d taken of Jason on his Ducati and set it on my nightstand, like a final goodbye to the life I thought I had.
I’d seen a flyer for a long–term research project out west–a three–year program in the middle of nowhere, totally isolated. Perfect.
By the time the sun came up, I was gone.
They didn’t even notice.
I called Dad one more time, just to see if he’d pick up. He didn’t.
Meanwhile, online, their company–Blake Enterprises–was the talk of the town.
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Employees were posting about their Christmas bonuses: cash, luxury watches, even cars.
One woman bragged about getting a $5,000 check “just for showing up.”
Photos from the company holiday party were everywhere.
My parents were in the spotlight, Dad in a sharp suit, Mom holding a glass of wine, her makeup flawless.
Jason stood beside them, grinning like the king of the world.
There was even a family photo.
The three of them, smiling for the cameras.
Not a single mention of me.
Reporters interviewed them at the party.
Someone asked Dad about their holiday plans.
“This year, my son Jason turns twenty–two,” he said, beaming.
“We have a tradition–every year, we take a family trip. We’re actually heading out tonight!”
I felt the words hit me like a punch to the gut.
I was twenty–two, too.
My “family trip“? A third–grade field trip to the local zoo.
I laughed bitterly, grabbed my passport, and ran my fingers over the cover.
The day I turned eighteen, they’d transferred my name out of their family records and into some random college housing roster.
“You’re an adult now,” they’d said.
“Time to take care of yourself.”
Well, now it was their turn to take care of themselves.
I grabbed my suitcase, took one last look at the empty house, and walked out the door.
“Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye, Mom,” I whispered.
This time, I meant it.
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