When my brother and I grinned and called her "Sister," Sheila's expression nearly cracked in half.

"You adopted another one?" she snapped, glaring at our parents.

Only after hearing that I was just an adopted child with no inheritance rights did she finally exhale in relief.

"I'm warning you—don't you dare bully my brother, otherwise, don't blame me for being rude!"

I immediately ducked behind Noah, pretending to look frightened.

"Noah, why is Sister so biased? If she'd protected you like this years ago, you wouldn't have had to suffer so much in that orphanage..."

The meaning was clear enough—you lost your own brother, and instead of feeling guilty, you're threatening people to protect the fake one? Are you serious?

Sure enough, the faces of Uncle James and Aunt Mariz darkened instantly.

Sheila's chest heaved with anger, clearly about to retort, but I discreetly pinched my brother's waist.

He caught on immediately, covering his face and sobbing dramatically.

"If Sister doesn't like me, then I'll just go back to the orphanage! Come on, Lenon, let's go!"

Uncle James' patience finally snapped.

Smack!

The sound of his palm echoed through the courtyard as it met her cheek.

"Unfilial child! This is how you welcome your brother home? Get out of my sight!"

Sheila clutched her face, glaring at us resentfully but not daring to talk back.

My brother and I exchanged a victorious look.

First battle—won!

But just as we stepped through the doorway, we were greeted by the sight of a boy standing on a stool, tearfully tying a rope around the chandelier.

Not good—a pity play!

Before anyone else could react, I rushed forward and barked, "Stop! Who allowed you to swing indoors?!"

My brother slid in with a perfect tackle, kicking both the stool and the boy off balance.

The so-called "fake young master" tumbled to the ground in a spectacular sprawl before the rope could even touch his neck.

"Ah!" he yelped in pain as the family rushed forward in panic to help him up.

When they saw the chandelier's rope and the stool, their faces filled with horror.

"Felix, what on earth are you doing?" Aunt Mariz cried.

Felix looked up at me with tear-filled eyes, his voice trembling theatrically.

"Brother, it's all my fault. I stole your identity for so many years, making you suffer... Let me atone for my sins with my life!"

He choked on a sob and turned to Noah. "Please, don't blame Mom and Dad. Take care of them for me... please?"

Aunt Mariz immediately pulled him into her arms, her voice shaking.

"Don't say that, silly child! You're our son too—we raised you with our own hands!"

From the side, Sheila shot us both a murderous glare.

"You foolish brother! This has nothing to do with you. Let's see who dares to blame you!"

Felix buried his face deeper into Aunt Mariz's embrace, sneaking a triumphant, taunting glance at me from between his tears.

Ah. A true pretentious brat.

Trying to guilt-trip and manipulate everyone in one move? Not on my watch.

Smirking, I activated my full "poison tongue" mode.

"So you're the adopted son, Felix? Oh—excuse me, my mistake. I just thought some shameless idiot was playing swing indoors."

I tilted my head innocently.

"Wait, were you trying to hang yourself? Using the crystal chandelier? With a slipknot that unties itself the moment you twitch? Be careful—if the lamp falls, you'll end up killing someone else instead."

Noah got up from the floor and chimed in enthusiastically, "Yeah, super dangerous! Luckily, I jumped in—uh, I mean, kicked in—at the right time."

Everyone looked up at the ceiling.

Sure enough, the chandelier chain was already half-loose, swaying ominously.

Uncle James' face went black as thunder.

"Ridiculous! What if you smashed it on your brother's head?"

Seeing his melodramatic act and guilt-tripping tactics both fail, Felix turned back to me, still pretending to cry. "I'm sorry, Brother... I really didn't mean to cause trouble..."

I smiled sweetly. "You've got the wrong person. I'm your foster brother. He's the one you should be apologizing to."

I gently pushed Noah forward. "Go on. Try again."

But Sheila immediately jumped in, shielding Felix protectively.

"Dad! Felix just wanted to make amends! It's Noah and that Lenon kid who made him fall! They have no manners at all!"

My temper flared instantly.

Damn it—curse me all you want, but insult my brother? Not happening!

"Sister," I said with a sneer, "I get that you want to play the protective big sister, but could you at least make up believable nonsense?"

"How is Noah ‘ill-mannered'? Didn't you lose him back then? You're the reason he suffered in an orphanage for years—how dare you lecture him about manners?"

"His young master status was stolen by your precious thief of a brother. What kind of ‘manners' were you expecting from him?"

"Honestly, listening to your talk is painful—do your intestines connect straight to your brain? Even a dung beetle would need to pop open your skull just to check the flavor!"

"If you can't talk like a person, then don't—sit with the dogs instead!"

When I finished my verbal barrage, the entire room went dead silent.

Only my brother grabbed my hand, eyes brimming with tears.

"Bro," he whispered hoarsely, "you're the best!"

Sheila's face turned an impressive shade of blue as her voice cracked with fury. "You—you dared to insult me?!"

"What, can't I? Oh wait—give me a second. I've got more for him too."

I jabbed a finger toward Felix. "And you—stop pretending you're some precious gem. Even a trash bag couldn't contain all that fake sincerity you're spilling!"

"Weren't you ‘feeling unwell' and supposed to be resting? Didn't look that way when you were staging your little suicide act earlier!"

"Let me guess—the only thing making you sick is that Noah is back, and you can't stand not being the only young master anymore, right?"

The boy froze, his face turning pale as I hit the mark. He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off mercilessly.

"Playing sick, faking suicide, trying to stir up trouble—who asked you to atone for anything? You're both young masters now, aren't you? Then why are you the only one acting brain-dead?"

His little face turned white as a sheet, stammering, "Y-you—you—"

I scoffed, "You what? Spit it out! If you stutter, go see a doctor. If you've got brain problems, read a damn book!"

Realizing he couldn't out-talk me, Felix immediately switched back to his trademark pretentious act—soft, tearful, manipulative.

"Noah, I'm sorry... I didn't mean it. I was just scared you'd hate me, that's all..."

Then he turned to me, eyes watery. "Lenon, if you're angry, yell at me. Just don't take it out on Sister or our parents."

There it was again—the same routine.

Honestly, this pretentious boy couldn't even come up with new material.

I was too lazy to keep arguing, so I turned to the dumbstruck rich couple and asked pleasantly, "I heard we'll be in the same class as our little brother?"

They nodded quickly, still in shock.

"Perfect," I said with a smile. "That way we can take care of him more easily. By the way, which room will we be staying in?"

Aunt Mariz immediately led us upstairs.

Felix followed behind, eyes red, pretending to be gracious as he pushed open the door to his own room.

"Brother, if you don't mind, you can stay here. It was originally your room anyway..."

But before we could respond, Sheila rushed over again, blocking the doorway like a guard dog.

"Felix, this room was specially decorated by Mom for you! Those two uneducated bumpkins don't deserve to live here!"

I was about to roast her again when Aunt Mariz shot her a sharp glare and spoke gently to my brother.

"Noah, you can choose any room you like. Think of it as our way of making it up to you."

My brother wrinkled his nose, glancing distastefully at Felix's overly delicate, floral-themed room. Then he turned and pointed boldly to a spacious, sunlit bedroom at the end of the hall.

"I'll take that one! It's big enough for me and Lenon!"

Sheila nearly screamed. "You've got to be kidding me—that's Mom and Dad's room!"

I smiled sweetly at Aunt Mariz. "Mom, you did say we could pick any room we wanted, right? You're not going back on your word, are you?"

Aunt Mariz's smile twitched, but after a long pause, she nodded reluctantly.

"Wonderful!" I said cheerfully. "We're exhausted from the trip. Mom, Dad, you two should rest early too!"

Then I pulled my brother into our new room and slammed the door shut, leaving the stunned family frozen in the hallway.

From that day on, we began our new life as the Watson family's most unorthodox "young masters."

And over the next week, my brother and I did what any self-respecting newly-rich duo would do—we went on a glorious, unstoppable shopping spree.

Eight years of struggle—and at last, we had the blissful freedom of buying anything without checking the price tag!

We returned home with multiple carloads of shopping bags, dressed like two spoiled heirs from some old-money dynasty.

Every time Felix threw a sour comment about our "wasteful spending," I'd clap back with something sharp enough to slice his ego in half.

When he couldn't win with words, he started playing dirty.

On day one, he pretended to be delicate and "accidentally" dropped a flower vase from the second floor, aiming for us. Noah caught it with one hand, not even blinking.

On the second day, at dinner, he "slipped" and sent a pot of boiling soup flying toward me. Noah flicked it back with the spoon—and it scalded Felix's hand instead.

On the third day, Felix hid his diamond watch under our pillows, then brought the whole family to "catch the thieves." Too bad we pulled up the surveillance footage showing him sneaking into our room.

Cornered, he burst into fake tears and mumbled that it was "just a surprise gift gone wrong."

After that humiliation, he kept his head down for a while. But we both knew that silence meant only one thing—he was plotting.

And sure enough, a month later, during the elite academy's class assembly, he struck.

With red eyes and a trembling voice, Felix stood before everyone and said, "These are my parents' newly adopted sons from the orphanage. Please take care of them."

Just like that, he outed us as the adopted ones in front of the entire class.

The room erupted in whispers.

"What? The Watson family just adopts kids on a whim?"

"Poor Felix... imagine having to share everything with strangers."

I smiled sweetly and told my brother, "Show them the paternity test."

Then, in my most pleasant tone, I said, "Funny how our dear little brother talks like he's the victim. You've lived in someone else's nest for eight years, and you're still putting on an act?"

"You're an adopted son too, remember? Don't pretend you're royalty."

I turned to the class and continued, "Hi, everyone. I'm Noah's brother—the real heir of the Watson family. Like Felix said, I'm also adopted. But the Watsons didn't adopt me for charity. They just wanted someone to protect their true son from certain people just like today."

The classroom went dead silent. Then the tide turned.

"Wait, so he's the fake one?"

"Man, he's been pretending all along!"

Laughter rippled through the room, sharp as slaps. Felix's face drained of color; he nearly burst into tears on the spot.

From that day on, he became the school's running joke—the pretentious fake prince.

To save face, he threw himself into piano lessons and traditional dance, trying to look elegant and superior.

I, on the other hand, joined a comedy and stand-up club. My brother took up martial arts and tai chi.

In the following years, Felix's delusion of overshadowing us didn't happen.

During school performances, his delicate recitals never stood a chance against my stand-up comedy or Noah's breaking bricks with his chest that left audiences in awe.

On campus, I have gained a large number of fans with my sharp tongue and humor, and Noah also helped everyone a lot with their martial arts.

Bit by bit, the school changed. With our presence, bullying disappeared, fights dwindled, and laughter filled the halls.

Two once-troublesome brats had somehow grown into two well-loved, grounded young men.

The Watsons adored us more than ever. They even held a press conference to officially introduce us to the public.

Not long after, I overheard the couple's late-night talk.

"It's time to prepare some shares for Noah's coming-of-age ceremony. After all, he's our biological son."

"The Medina family's been pushing hard in the market lately. A marriage alliance would stabilize things. Luckily, their daughter doesn't seem opposed to meeting him. Let's see which of the boys' fate favors..."

In the dark hallway, Felix's fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white.