Christmas Day. My parents, chasing triple pay, had left me alone at home again. Thinking back to the last twenty years, how they always did this, I couldn’t stand another cold, lonely Christmas all by myself. So, I went looking for them. To my surprise, my parents, who constantly preached about needing to earn more money, stepped out of a luxury car, arm-in-arm with a boy about my age, laughing and chatting as they headed into a five-star restaurant. “Dad, Mom, is it really okay to leave Alex home alone like that?” My mom just shrugged, dismissive. “It’s fine. He’s used to it.” My dad chimed in, equally nonchalant. “He’s nothing compared to you, Leo. You’re our precious one!” I turned and walked away. They’d been faking poverty, lying to me all this time. This time, I didn’t want their company anyway. Back home, I dumped all the untouched food on the table straight into the trash. Before, I would never have dared. Ever since I could remember, I knew our family was struggling. Everything I ate and wore came from my parents’ tireless scrimping and saving. New clothes were a rarity. Every season, my mom would bring home a bag of used clothes. She’d always tell me, “These were worn by a colleague’s son. They’re clean, no need to buy new ones.” I had no idea where she got those old clothes. My childhood was practically devoid of anything new. I always wore ill-fitting clothes, and my classmates made fun of me, calling me a ragamuffin, like I picked my clothes from a dumpster. I buried myself in my studies, hoping that one day, I could earn enough to buy new clothes for myself. During holidays, I’d hand over any gifts or pocket money relatives gave me, just to ease my parents’ burden. But who knew, they had no burden at all. I’d looked it up. That luxury car was owned by the Davidsons, one of the city’s wealthiest families. The young master of that family had once been spotted cruising around in it with a famous actress, creating quite a stir. I’d seen that gossip news, and the rich kid’s face was unmistakably the same boy I saw tonight. Turns out, I was a rich kid myself! I found it ironically hilarious. I sniffed, wiping my nose, then turned back to my parents’ bedroom to search. Maybe they were too careless, leaving such important documents at home. When I saw my dad’s signature on a contract worth hundreds of millions, with a Montblanc pen tucked inside the papers, the last shred of hope in my heart died. I put everything back exactly as I found it, then quietly returned to my room, pulled the blanket over my head, and went to sleep. I just hoped I’d wake up and find it all a dream. The next morning, my parents were already bustling in the kitchen. I looked at the breakfast laid out on the table and suddenly realized: who eats gourmet seafood for breakfast? The smell was identical to the expensive seafood feast Professor Thompson treated us to last time. I glanced at the trash bag by the door. Sure enough. Empty seafood containers. “Mom, Dad, did we strike it rich?” I asked, sitting at the table, watching them. My mom looked surprised. “Alex, what are you talking about?” “Then how can we afford such expensive seafood?” I pointed at the trash bag. My mom’s face immediately changed. My dad chuckled beside her. “Oh, that? Last night I was working late with my boss, and he packed it for me. I couldn’t bear to eat it myself, so I brought it home.” “With your mom and my meager salaries, how could we ever afford seafood like this?” Right, of course. I nodded, sipping the porridge, but inside, I scoffed. Seafood, about seventy-five bucks a bowl. Last night’s dinner probably cost tens of thousands. If they were genuinely poor, this bowl of porridge would have tasted delicious. Now, it tasted like cardboard. I only ate two bites before standing up. “I’m full.” “Alex, why are you eating so little? Are you feeling unwell?” My mom asked, her face etched with concern. Her gaze didn’t seem fake. I shook my head, forcing a smile. “No, not at all! Aren’t we going to Grandpa George’s today? I’m saving room for a good lunch there!” Hearing that, my mom sighed in relief. My dad looked a little guilty, about to say something, when his phone rang. I glanced at the screen. The caller ID read, “My Precious Son, Leo.” Leo, his precious son. What about me, then? My dad quickly went out to the balcony, and my mom followed. I faintly heard him saying things like, “Be good,” and “Don’t let Alex find out.” A chill settled deep in my heart. So, they’d known all along. They’d been in on it, conspiring to keep it from me. I even wondered if my entire world was like The Truman Show. Yet, they felt so real.
After hanging up the phone, Dad came over to me. “Alex, something urgent came up at work. I need to go in for a bit!” Mom tried to reassure me. “It’s fine, sweetie, I’ll go with you.” I nodded, got ready with Mom, and we headed to Grandpa George and Grandma Martha’s place. When we arrived, Grandpa George saw me, pulled me in close. “Alex, you’re here! Come in, it’s cold outside!” His hands were soft and smooth, not at all calloused like a man who’d spent his life doing physical labor. This old apartment complex was part of a former industrial site; they said Grandpa George was a retired blue-collar worker from the plant. But looking at how pampered he seemed, it didn’t add up. Grandma Martha saw me and immediately pressed some money into my hand. I took it. “Thanks, Grandma.” Then I put it straight into my pocket. My mom looked a little taken aback. Usually, I’d hand the money straight to her. Back then, Mom would always say, “Alex is such a thoughtful boy.” But today, I acted completely out of character. Even Grandma Martha paused, then chuckled. “Our Alex is learning to keep his pocket money now!” I raised an eyebrow and smiled. “It’s not really ‘keeping’ it. I just want some pocket money for myself.” “That’s right, Alex is so responsible! He earns all his tuition and living expenses himself!” I didn’t need them to say it. I knew Grandma Martha would give me maybe seventy bucks at most. Compared to my tuition, that amount was nothing! They were clearly so wealthy, yet they squeezed every penny out of me. I didn’t understand this ‘hardship training’—why was it only for me? What was their game? Grandma Martha didn’t say anything else, just went into the kitchen and started bustling around. When the dishes were served, I took two bites and lost my appetite completely. The food was identical to what I’d seen last night at the five-star restaurant. Now I was absolutely sure: my entire family was loaded. My parents, despite their immense wealth, were putting on an act of poverty. Even Grandpa George and Grandma Martha were playing along. After dinner, my mom took a call, made an excuse about work, and rushed off. Grandpa George and Grandma Martha started yawning, looking sleepy. I felt awkward staying any longer, so I left. But I didn’t go far. I hid around the corner, watching. Sure enough, less than twenty minutes after I left, a stretched limousine pulled up. Grandpa George and Grandma Martha, surrounded by a group of people, got into the car and drove off without a backward glance. I took a deep breath, pulled my mask up, and walked over. I saw a few cleaning ladies tidying up. One of them sighed. “I don’t know what these people are thinking. They come here just one day a year, cook a meal, and then leave!” “But they do pay a hefty cleaning fee every time!” “You don’t know? This family has been doing this every year for over twenty years now. They have a huge mansion in the Hillside Estates. These are rich folks who come to slum it for a day!” Hearing that, my heart turned utterly cold. The Davidsons, the wealthiest family in the south of the city, had a mansion in the Hillside Estates. I rode my bike over there. I saw the magnificent villa perched on the hillside, with bodyguards outside. This kind of place was beyond anything I could imagine. When the bodyguard saw me approaching, he immediately barked, “Who are you? Get lost!” I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to turn and leave, a motorcycle roared past, pulling up from outside. I’d seen it online; that bike was worth almost three hundred thousand dollars. The rider was Leo.
He saw me too, clearly surprised. He stopped, looking me up and down, a sneer on his face. “Not as dumb as I thought, huh? Figured out how to find your way here!” I froze. So, he knew about me all along! “Why? Why is this happening?!” “Leo, am I adopted? Or are you all part of some project, and I’m just an observation subject?” Leo seemed to catch on to my confusion. He raised an eyebrow, wagging a finger. “No, you’re also a Davidson. A biological son.” “As for why they created this illusion of poverty for you, there’s only one reason: because I am the sole heir of the Davidson family!” “Alex, you were born just one minute before me. What makes you think you can compete with me?!” “This isn’t your place. Just get lost!” “Oh, poor thing. Don’t look at me like that. Mom and Dad put a lot of effort into raising you too, you know!” “Oh, and by the way, don’t bother Grandpa George and Grandma Martha for holidays anymore. They’re old, they don’t have the energy to keep up the act for you!” Leo revved his engine and sped inside. I stood outside for a long time, and then it all clicked. My birth, and Leo’s, seemed tied to the family inheritance. But what had I done wrong? All I ever wanted was my parents’ genuine love. They’d lied to me for so many years, but their kindness to me had also seemed real. Now, as I looked at the mansion and that expensive motorcycle, I began to doubt how much of their kindness was truly genuine. I turned to leave. Before I did, I called my dad. “Dad, are you coming home for dinner tonight?” “No, Alex, I won’t be back. Overtime tonight, triple pay for the next three days!” “Oh, and your mom is working too!” But I clearly heard the roar of a motorcycle in the background of his call. I simply mumbled, “Okay,” my mind already made up. Back home, I started packing my belongings. At the same time, I signed up for a special research project posted by the university. This project was based out in a remote location, a three-year commitment, completely cut off from the outside world. No one would disturb me there. Once I was packed, I printed out the photo I’d secretly taken of Leo’s back and placed it on my bedside table. That day, they didn’t come home. I was alone in the house. I called my dad again, but no one answered. Meanwhile, Gardner Corp., a Davidson family company, was giving out gifts. An employee posted on Ins, thanking their boss. She was just a regular employee, but her gift was worth over four hundred dollars! Many other employees also showed off their company benefits. My parents were front and center on stage, Dad in a suit, Mom holding a glass of wine. My mom had exquisite makeup, radiating an air of wealth. Below the stage, Leo was surrounded by people, and there was even a full family portrait of them. My parents seemed convinced that I was too busy earning money to pay attention to online gossip. They forgot that I was just an ordinary boy, raised in poverty and hardship. How could I not pay attention? A reporter interviewed them, asking about their New Year’s plans. My dad looked into the camera. “This year, our son Leo turns twenty-two. Every year, we arrange a trip for him, and today, we’re off!” My heart plummeted. I was twenty-two too. The farthest I’d ever been was a school field trip to the local zoo in elementary school. I scoffed, picked up my official papers, tracing their edges with my finger. It was almost funny. After I started college, my parents moved my official residence to the school’s address. They said I was an adult now and needed to be responsible for myself. Now was the perfect time to leave. I grabbed my luggage and walked out without hesitation. Dad, Mom, goodbye for good!
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