At the thesis defense, Mom and Dad read out the list of students whose graduations would be delayed.

When I heard my name—Marcus Thornton—I froze.

"There must be a mistake. I have a patent. How could my graduation be delayed?"

Mom and Dad shot me a look, signaling me to sit down.

"The patent is Harrison's. Don't think you can exploit a loophole."

Everyone in the room stared at me, eyes burning like they couldn't wait to tear me apart.

After the delayed-graduation list went up on the official website, the whole school praised Mom and Dad as model teachers. They'd cultivated an outstanding graduate who'd lost both arms, and showed absolutely no mercy to their own good-for-nothing son.

Clutching the notice that had just ruined my future, I walked into their office.

"Son, Harrison is very pitiful. Graduating late is nothing for you. Can't you be considerate of Mom and Dad?"

Looking at those faces—faces that suddenly felt like strangers'—I finally understood.

They'd planned this three years ago.

1.

The year I got into Capital University for grad school, Mom and Dad—who'd always taken a hands-off approach to parenting me—knocked on my rented apartment door for the first time ever.

"Son, your re-exam results are out? I heard you got double first place at Capital University."

They weren't there to congratulate me. They were there to convince me to give up my spot and come back to our hometown with them.

"Son, your mom and I are getting old. All the connections we've built over a lifetime are here. After you finish at Capital University, you'll still have to come back anyway. You might as well come back now—we'll pave the way for you."

Looking at them, dusty from travel with graying temples, I believed their nonsense about paving the way.

I voluntarily gave up Capital University's excellent conditions and went back with them.

On the slow train home, Mom was on the phone with someone.

"Don't worry, it's settled. You'll definitely be able to enroll on time."

Three months into the new semester, Harrison Mason arrived late.

That's when I finally heard from other people what Mom and Dad's real purpose was.

"Director Thornton and his wife are too great. For that child with no arms to be able to enroll, they didn't hesitate to make their own son give up his spot at Capital University."

"That's Capital University—how is that possible? Who'd be stupid enough to sacrifice their own son's future for someone else?"

After hearing the gossip, I went to confront them. But they shut me down with a single flat sentence: "There's no such thing."

Unwilling to let it go, I went to the academic affairs office myself to check Harrison's admission score.

The teacher there told me Harrison's admission was a buy-one-get-one deal.

In order to let this student who'd lost both arms—disabled in body but strong in will—enroll, Mom and Dad had personally negotiated with the leadership. In the end, they agreed: as long as they could recruit an outstanding student with three patents, Harrison could enroll as a specially accommodated student.

After the truth came out, a suffocating sense of betrayal washed over me.

But it was too late. I'd already lost my spot at Capital University.

When they found out I'd gone to the academic affairs office, Dad flew into a rage.

"Marcus Thornton, your wings are hard now, aren't they? I already told you it was a rumor, but you insisted on checking."

"Now Harrison is going to drop out—do you know how hard it's been for him to get here after losing both arms?"

I met his bloodshot eyes. "His hardship has nothing to do with me. Why should I sacrifice my future to pave the way for him?"

Mom tried to smooth things over. "Son, there's no such thing. Listen to your dad—apologize to Harrison properly, and we'll consider this settled."

I stared at her in disbelief. "Why should I apologize? I didn't do anything wrong."

I stormed out and slammed the door.

I thought my anger would bring them to their senses.

Who would've thought—the very next day, I'd barely walked through the front door.

I pushed open my bedroom door, and what I saw made my blood boil.

"Mrs. Thornton, where should I put this trash?"

Harrison kicked at the medals I'd won since first grade—science fairs, math competitions, all of it. My stamp collection, ten years of careful work, lay scattered across the floor.

"Who told you you could be here? Get out!"

My voice startled him. He pressed his lips together and turned to my mom with that timid look. "Mrs. Thornton. Maybe I should just go back to school? The other students will talk for a few days and then forget about it. If it's really that bad, I can drop out. I was useless to begin with. If I hadn't lost both hands, I wouldn't have—"

Mom came rushing from the kitchen, still wearing her apron, ribs simmering behind her. She lifted the soup ladle and cracked it against the back of my head. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Weren't you talking tough about running away? How do you have the nerve to come back?" She jabbed the ladle toward me. "I'm telling you—because you've caused Harrison all this trouble, he's living in your room now. All your stuff is getting moved out."

I followed her pointing finger. My bedding. The Lego sets I'd spent years carefully assembling. All of it had been dumped in the storage room next to the bathroom.

"Why? This is my home. I'm your son. He's a stranger—what right does he have?"

A burning pain exploded across my left cheek. Dad had slapped me hard enough to make my ears ring.

"Because you were selfish and got Harrison mocked by other students. The school gave us an ultimatum: fix this problem, or your mom and I are both fired."

Blood pooled in my mouth. I clenched my teeth.

"Fine. He stays. I go."

I grabbed what little I had left and moved into a six-person graduate dorm. Desperate to escape my parents' control, I ran around campus begging to switch advisors. But administration told me Harrison and I were tied together—I could only stay in my parents' research group. If I wanted out, I'd have to drop out entirely.

I'd just finished filling out the withdrawal form when I got the call: Grandma Abbott had suffered a heart attack. She was in the hospital.

My parents were always busy when I was young. Grandma was the one who raised me.

At her bedside, she stroked my head with trembling fingers. "It's karma, Marcus. All karma. Promise me—don't fight with your dad and mom anymore, okay? That boy doesn't have hands. It's truly pitiful. Your parents are kind people. That's why they're helping him."

I stiffened, ready to refuse.

Grandma ripped the heart monitor off her chest. Yanked out the IV.

"If you don't agree, I won't live."

Uncle Warren and the aunts surrounded me, crying, pointing, calling me unfilial.

"Fine. Fine. I promise." My voice came out hollow. "But only this once."

From that day on, Harrison and I kept our distance. I ignored my parents' attempts to make nice. He took everything that should have been mine like it was his birthright—my room, my parents, every family gathering.

The day Grandma was discharged, I skipped class to pick her up. When I arrived, she was sitting in a wheelchair, stroking Harrison's forehead. The same way she used to stroke mine.

"This poor child. How could something like that happen?"

Her words made Mom dab at her eyes again and again.

"It was just a coincidence, Mom. Don't worry. Jianguo and I will make it up to him properly."

Make it up to him? Why?

I searched everywhere for answers. Every record I could access. Still nothing explained why my parents treated him like their own flesh and blood.

Unless—had they caused him to lose both arms?

I dug into Harrison's old medical records.

I found out it was just an accident—nothing to do with Mom and Dad at all.

Unable to untangle the mess in my head, I threw myself into my studies.

The school had a rule: invent a top-tier national patent within three years, and you graduate. Simple as that.

The thought of finally getting away from Harrison kept me locked in the lab day and night.

Just when my experiment showed the first signs of success, my dad stepped in. Using research group funds, he set up a "special research team" for me—to help share the pressure, he said.

I knew better than to resist.

I knew exactly what he was doing. Harrison was going to ride my coattails.

The thing was, I was working on an optoelectronics project. Harrison didn't have hands. No matter how nimble his feet were, he couldn't run experiments.

But he refused to be useless. So he volunteered to record experimental data.

Plenty of nights, when a data point wouldn't come through, he stayed up with me.

Mom and Dad felt sorry for him. They'd show up with freshly stewed soup.

"Marcus, I owe you an apology." Harrison's voice was sincere as he set down the milky-white pig trotter soup Mom had made. "What happened during enrollment—that was my fault. I shouldn't have shifted all the pressure onto you. These past few days, working alongside you... I've learned a lot. You don't know how much Professor Thornton and his wife miss you. They stew your favorite soup every day and send it with me. They just want you to eat more."

The pungent smell of pepper hit me, and I froze.

I'd been allergic to pepper my whole life. One accidental bite and I'd have an asthma attack.

I looked at my mom's expectant eyes. Then I took the bowl and drained it in one gulp.

Relief washed over both their faces.

I knew right then—they were already plotting what else they could take from me.

"Marcus, Mom knows how hard you work. And you and Harrison have cleared up your misunderstanding." She reached for my arm. "Why don't you move back home? Dad and I can take care of you properly. Look how thin you've gotten. It breaks my heart."

The way she wiped her tears made me hesitate—just for an instant.

Then her next words dropped me into an ice cellar.

"You're about to graduate. You've got a patent, so Dad and I aren't worried about you. But Harrison—" Her voice cracked. "He lost his hands. And he's been by your side through all these experiments. His graduation thesis..."

She didn't need to finish. I knew exactly what she wanted.

"I'll help him write it," I said. "After all, he helped me too."

My mom smiled—that warm, knowing smile.

During the day, I ran experiments. At night, I wrote Harrison's thesis.

To graduate. To escape the parents who couldn't tell right from wrong. To get away from Harrison, who kept draining me dry.

I worked around the clock.

When I finally submitted the patent application and saw the words "preliminary review approved"—when Harrison's thesis passed after five revisions—I exhaled for the first time in years.

Three years of slaving away in the shadows for him. Finally coming to an end.

On the day of my defense, I submitted my resume to a company near Capital University.

One successful defense, and I could leave these three years of darkness behind.

The moment I sat down in the venue, my classmates were already whispering.

"I heard someone in our group invented a national patent. They're getting offered a faculty position."

"That's insane. No wonder Professor Thornton personally mentored them."

I blinked. Faculty position?

Harrison walked in late, wearing a crisp pressed suit, flanked by Mom and Dad.

When the last defense ended and the extended-graduation list was announced—

For the first time in my life, I opposed my parents in front of everyone.

"So what if you have to extend?" Dad's voice was ice. "Your mother and I are your advisors. You think we won't let you graduate eventually?"