I looked at Philip, then at Celeste.

My anger was already pushed to its breaking point. Still, deep inside, a foolish glimmer of hope remained. Maybe she had just been momentarily confused.

I reached out toward her.

“Come here,” I said hoarsely. “I’ll give you one last chance.”

She had barely taken a step when Philip suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her back behind him. This brother of mine, who had always spoken to me softly and once wore only warmth on his face, now looked at me with apparent disgust.

He stepped forward, facing me squarely, and spoke with deliberate calm. “Nathan, I’m sorry. But Celeste and I truly love each other.”

“Let go,” I said.

My fist swung before I could think.

It connected with his face, and blood immediately spilled from his nose.

Celeste screamed and slapped me hard across the cheek. The sound echoed sharply through the room. Even she froze afterward, staring at her own hand in shock.

My gaze dropped to the fresh hickey on her neck, and a bone-deep chill crept through me.

Philip wiped the blood from his face and sneered. “Nathan, is violence the only thing you’re good at? Wake up and face reality.”

He paused, then delivered the next blow, his voice colder than ever. “And she’s already pregnant. With my child.”

Something inside me snapped.

I lunged at him, and we crashed together, fists and bodies colliding in a violent struggle.

Celeste rushed forward, trying desperately to pull us apart.

In the turmoil, I pushed her away without realizing how forcefully I was pushing.

She slammed into the floor.

Almost immediately, blood began to spread beneath her.

She miscarried.

At the hospital, my mother sat wiping away her tears again and again. My father stood nearby, his face dark with anger.

Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy with reprimand. “Nathan, you were too impulsive. No matter how furious you were, you should never have laid a hand on a pregnant woman.”

I looked at them and felt only a bitter sense of absurdity. “She was carrying Philip’s child, a bastard with no blood ties to our family. And you still want it?”

“Enough!” my father roared.

His cane came down hard against my calf.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed to my knees.

His chest heaved as he pointed the cane at me. “You animal, listen carefully!”

Then, my father explained, “Philip’s father was my brother-in-arms. We exchanged our lives on the battlefield. He took a bullet for me. Before he died, he entrusted me with one thing, and it's taking care of his only son.”

He looked down at me, his eyes cold and merciless. “In your mother’s heart and mine, Philip is part of our family. If you dare touch him again, I will not wait for anyone else. I will break your legs myself.”

I knelt there, the pain in my legs insignificant compared to the icy dread spreading through my chest.

So that was it.

More than twenty years of our father-son relationship meant less than a promise made at the brink of death.

My father continued, his voice sharp with condemnation.

“And you still dare talk back? If you hadn’t neglected Celeste all these years, how could she have ended up with Philip? You’ve been willful since childhood. You’re nothing like him, who’s steady and sensible! Apologize to Philip!”

From the side, my sister added casually, “Nathan, since Philip and Celeste truly love each other, why don’t you just let them be?”

“Dad!” My voice shook as I spoke. "His feelings matter, but can my dignity—your own son—be trampled at will?"

I lifted my head just in time to catch the look Philip and Celeste exchanged.

The tenderness lingering in that shared gaze shattered my last remaining hope.

I sprang to my feet and rushed toward the hospital bed, grabbing Celeste’s wrist and trying to pull her with me.

“Come with me! Let’s leave! I won’t hold anything against you anymore!”

Celeste screamed as she fell, clawing for balance. She snatched a vase from the bedside table and smashed it violently against my head.

“Let go of me!”

Porcelain shattered against my scalp. Blood combined with cold water as it flowed down my face.

My father’s bodyguards burst into the room, wrenching my arms behind my back and forcing me to the floor.

“He’s gone mad! Completely mad!” my father shouted. “Send him to psychiatry. Lock him up and make him come to his senses!”

Pinned to the floor, my vision blurred.

The last thing I saw was Philip carefully pulling Celeste into his arms.

I was sent to a psychiatric hospital.

Under the effects of tranquilizers, time lost all meaning.

Each day, during the single hour I was allowed to watch television, the screen was filled with news of Philip and Celeste.

They were in the Maldives with my sister, smiling brightly, their happiness dazzling enough to blind me.

I knew that if I kept causing trouble, I would never be allowed to leave.

So I learned how to behave. I took my medication on time, cooperated with every therapy session, and followed the treatment plan without resistance.

Little by little, their vigilance eased.

On the day I was finally discharged, Philip came to pick me up himself.

Celeste sat in the passenger seat, while my sister sat beside me in the back.

The car drove on in silence for a long time before Trisha spoke, her tone casual, almost offhand.

“Nathan,” she said, “the last time we visited you, you had already signed the divorce papers. This morning, Celeste and Philip officially registered their marriage.”

She lifted her phone and waved it in front of me.

On the screen was their wedding photo.

A wave of dizziness washed over me. I could not remember signing anything. There was no memory of it, not even a fragment.

“Stop the car,” I said.

“Nathan...” Trisha frowned impatiently. “Can you stop making a scene? Look at Philip. He has always been steady and reliable. No wonder Mom and Dad decided to hand the entire company over to him.”

My hand shot forward, gripping the back of the front seat so tightly my fingers ached.

“What about my shares?” I demanded.

Celeste turned around to face me. Her voice was still gentle and controlled.

“Nathan, you didn’t have legal capacity while you were ill. Mom and Dad were worried about you, so they temporarily entrusted your shares to Philip for management.”

“That was my life’s work.” I stared at the back of Philip’s head, fury surging through my chest.

He let out a scoffing laugh.

“Nathan, you don’t have that kind of ability,” he said lightly. “Wouldn’t it be better to just live comfortably as a rich idler?”

I looked at everyone in the car.

My wife.

My so-called brother.

My sister.

“Stop the car,” I said quietly. “Or else.”

Before anyone could react, I lunged forward and grabbed Philip by the hair, yanking hard.

He slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt at the side of the road.

I flung the door open and jumped out.

Before walking away, I turned back and fixed them with a cold stare.

“Things that belong to me aren’t that easy to take.”

I still had friends in Boston, brothers I had grown up with. I tracked them down, scraped together what money we could, hired the best lawyer I could afford, and led a group straight to the company.

I was going to take back everything that belonged to me, but the police arrived before I ever got the chance.

I was stopped at the company entrance. One by one, my calls stopped going through. The money we had pooled together vanished from my account without a trace.

Philip eventually walked out, surrounded by bodyguards.

He looked at me the way one might look at a joke.

“Nathan,” he said lightly, “after all these years, how are you still this naive?”

I was driven away like a stray dog.

That night, I went to a bar.

Glass after glass, I drank, trying to drown everything.

When I woke up, my head felt like it was splitting. Beside me lay a heavily made-up woman I did not recognize.

Before I could even piece things together, the door was slammed open.

Celeste and Philip stood in the doorway, my parents and sister behind them.

A swarm of reporters surged forward, cameras raised.

Flashbulbs exploded, nearly blinding me.

I rolled out of bed, humiliation burning through every nerve.

My father struck my back with his cane.

“Get him tested immediately,” he snapped. “I won’t have him bringing some disease back with him.”

When the test results came out, the hospital ward fell into dead silence.

That woman had HIV.

And on my report, the same three letters stared back at me.

“Self-degradation,” my mother spat before turning away, never looking back.

My sister dumped an entire basin of cold water over my head.

“You’re disgusting,” Trisha screamed. “Don’t ever say you’re my brother again!”

Celeste picked up a towel, her hand hovering in midair.

After a moment, she lowered it, her expression empty.

Overnight, I lost everything.

They sent me to an infectious disease hospital on the outskirts of the city.

On New Year’s Eve, my fever refused to break. I begged the doctor for medicine.

He glanced at me coldly.

“The chairman gave instructions not to pamper you,” he said. “A fever might do you some good.”

I escaped the hospital and ran all the way to the Golding family’s gates, collapsing to my knees in the snow.

Celeste never appeared.

Philip came out instead. He looked down at me, shook his head lightly, and turned back inside without a word.

Moments later, a servant emerged carrying a trash bin and dumped its foul-smelling contents over me, from head to toe.

“Where did this filthy thing come from? Get lost!”

My fever had climbed to nearly 104°F.

In the dead of night, the riverbank lay pitch-black, the water below surging violently.

From somewhere behind me came frantic shouts from the hospital.

“There’s someone over there!”

I did not hesitate.

I hurled myself into the icy river.

In that instant, Nathan Golding, the second son of the Goldings, truly died.

After that, I drifted through the world like a ghost.

I slept under bridges, scavenged leftovers, and endured countless cold, contemptuous stares.

Later, I found work on construction sites, hauling cement day after day. Steel bars bent my back inch by inch, until I finally scraped together enough money to buy a battered old car.

By day, I worked as a designated driver.

By night, I kneaded dough and chopped fillings. Flour and grime stayed permanently lodged beneath my fingernails, no matter how hard I scrubbed.

Still, life slowly began to regain a trace of warmth.

That was when Luis appeared.

One day, the young man stood awkwardly at the shop door, scratching the back of his head. His smile was shy but hopeful.

“Boss, I’m strong. I can work hard,” he said earnestly. “People back home say I’m useless. I just want to make something of myself in the city. Could you give me a job?”

The tide of memories gradually receded.

I put the box away and prepared to head out for my next driving shift.

But just as I pushed open the shop door, I froze.

A figure stood in the pale morning mist.

She cradled her pregnant belly as she walked toward me, one careful step at a time. As the light grew stronger, her face came clearly into view.

It was Celeste.

The shop instantly filled with that familiar, high-end perfume.

Once, I had taught her which scent to wear for which occasion.

Now, she used them with flawless precision.

Her gaze swept across the counter and landed on the open box. She stopped short, her eyes slowly reddening.

Without a word, I walked over, picked up the box, and tossed it into the nearby trash can.

“Nathan,” she said, stepping closer. Her voice was soft and hesitant. “These past years… how have you been? We all thought you…”

Luis recognized her from television and froze in place, his mouth hanging open.

My voice was flat and distant. “I’m dead. Isn’t that exactly what you all wanted?”

She fell silent. After a moment, tears shimmered in her eyes.

Then she spoke again, carefully, as if afraid of breaking something fragile. “There’s something very important I need to tell you.”