Young Edmund kept going. "And why are Mom and Dad treating you like that? You're their son.

"And what's wrong with Charlotte? She's got you cleaning like hired help. Who does she think she is?

"Say something, Edmund. Where's your backbone? They took your parents and Charlotte, and you're still taking it. Are you just gonna swallow your pride for a few thousand bucks?"

I kept wiping the table and let him finish.

"I need the money."

"How much do you need? I've been wanting to say this. What are you doing at that stupid factory? You're a grown man. You can work anywhere. Why stay there?"

I stopped, pulled off my mask, and took a photo before sending it.

In the photo, I stood expressionless beneath a baseball cap. The brim did little to hide the scars. They cut across my face in raised ridges, running from my forehead down my neck before disappearing beneath my collar.

"Because I don't have a choice."

He went quiet.

By the time I made it upstairs, I heard him trying to hold it in.

"Does it hurt?"

"It used to. Not anymore."

He was fighting it, but his voice still shook. "What happened in those eight years?"

Eight years. It went by faster than it should have.

Right before the SAT, I believed Charlotte and skipped school for a month.

The morning of the test, she called. She said Gideon had forgotten his admission ticket and needed me to bring it.

She said, "It doesn't matter if you take the test. He can't miss it."

So I went.

On my way there, a car came the wrong way and hit me, sending me several yards down the road.

I didn't die, but I missed the SAT and spent two months in the hospital.

The day I got out, I heard Charlotte and Gideon were heading to Wexford University, the best school in the country.

I went straight to the Collins' house to confront Charlotte.

"You said you'd send me abroad."

She looked at me like I was a nuisance. "I said that offhand. You took it seriously?"

Gideon stood next to her, trying not to laugh, like I was a joke to him.

I grabbed his wrist.

I wasn't trying to hurt him. I remembered what he was like when he first came to the city. I couldn't bring myself to do anything to him.

He screamed anyway and jerked back.

Charlotte rushed in and shoved me hard, sending me straight into a full-length mirror. It shattered, and I went face-first into the glass.

Blood ran down my face as my palms and bare calves split open almost instantly.

That was the day my life fell apart.

Dad couldn't accept what I had become, and Mom lost it and threw me out.

To keep them calm, Charlotte suggested they take Gideon in instead.

Just like that, I lost my home and my family.

I dropped out of high school. With my scarred face, no one would hire me. The factory was the only place that would take me.

I worked and saved for surgery. I studied when I could, hoping to retake the SAT.

But Mom kept my ID. She told me that Gideon had warned her, saying I wasn't stable, that I might use it for something stupid.

When Charlotte found out I needed money, she started calling me in to clean whenever she felt like it.

At first, I pushed back. I said whatever I could to hurt her.

But I needed the money.

The surgery alone cost 100 thousand. At the factory, I was stuck at the lowest pay.

The 1,000 she tossed me was half a month's wages.

Over time, I went numb. I stopped arguing and barely spoke.

I had no friends, no family, and no real chance at taking the SAT again.

Eight years stretched on like a bottomless pit. After a while, I didn't even have the strength to hate anymore.

Young Edmund broke down.

"What are you crying for?" I asked. "I told you, I don't feel anything anymore."

"I'm crying for you," he said between sobs.

I didn't answer. I crouched down and kept scrubbing the floor.

He sniffed and steadied himself. "I'm going to study. I mean it."

"Okay."

From that day on, every time I called him, he was buried in practice sets.

He didn't stop, no matter the hour.

The morning of the SAT, I got off my shift and saw a message from him.

Young Edmund wrote, [Thirty minutes till the test.]

I wanted to say something encouraging, but it had been a long time since anyone had said anything like that to me.

I stood there, trying to come up with the right words. I had just dialed when a pair of red heels stopped in front of me.

Charlotte looked at me and jerked her chin toward the car.

"I've got a meeting. Come with me and clean the conference room."

I shook my head. "I can't."

"Two grand."

"Not today. I'm busy."

I turned to go, but her voice came after me, flat. "You still want your ID so you can retake the SAT, right?

"If this deal closes, I'll give it back. And I'll give you 20 grand."

My young self was right. I had no backbone.

For 20 thousand and my ID, I got in the car.

Charlotte brought me to an office building and led me into a conference room. It was pitch black inside.

Something felt wrong. I turned and caught the glass door before it shut.

"I can't clean in the dark," I said, frowning.

Charlotte tossed something at me. "Put it on."

In the sliver of light from the hallway, I saw what it was: a pair of men's underwear, thin and barely there.

"What's this supposed to be?"

Charlotte crossed her arms.

"Mrs. Crayford can't see well. With the lights off, she won't notice much. She enjoys it more that way.

"If she's happy, the deal goes through."

A few people outside laughed under their breath.

Cold crept up my spine as I asked, "You lied to me?"

Charlotte glanced down at her nails.

"So? I lied to you before the SAT, too. You believed me then."

My heart was pounding.

"Why? We grew up together. Why would you do this?"

"That's on you. Gideon's sensitive, but you kept helping him, paying for things. What, you wanted to show off that you had a family and money?"

I tried to speak, but nothing came out. I couldn't believe the whole thing started with me helping Gideon.

"Gideon was scared you'd outscore him, make him feel small. And I was tired of you hanging around me. A couple of lies, and you stopped studying. That's on you."

Her eyes moved over my face, full of contempt.

"You still think you can retake the SAT? Stop kidding yourself. Work for me. I'll give you 3,000 a month. That's better than the factory.

"You should be grateful Mrs. Crayford doesn't mind your ugly face."

The lock clicked.

A heavyset woman stepped out of the dark, laughing low.

"Ms. Collins said you might be difficult and told me to be patient. But I like it when they fight back. Makes it interesting."

I backed up fast, breathing hard, until my back hit the wall.

I yelled, "Don't touch me! This is assault. I'm calling the police!"

Lydia Crayford laughed. "I bring Ms. Collins business, and she brings me someone to play with. Where's the problem?"

She grabbed my throat, her other hand reaching for my clothes.

"Relax, young man. I'll help you change."

My phone slipped from my pocket and hit the floor.

The call was still connected. Young Edmund had heard everything.

I could hear him panting, like he was running.

"Wait for me. I'm coming!" he screamed into the phone.

Lydia's hand closed around my belt.

As her grip tightened on my throat and the air cut off, my vision washed out in white.

For a split second, I thought I was blacking out.

Then I realized it was light. Harsh fluorescent light.

I was sitting at the head of the conference table, a contract spread out in front of me.

A man in a suit leaned in from my left, his tone careful and respectful, "Mr. Lockwood, this is Ms. Collins."

I looked down and saw Charlotte on her knees in front of me, her hands clasped, her eyes red.

"Mr. Lockwood, please. The Collins family can't survive without this deal.

"Just give me a chance. I'll do whatever you want!"