Parents and Son Under Attack Chapter 2

That night, my parents made me share a room with Ethan Grant. I lay quietly, unable to sleep, my mind calculating how to become independent quickly and leave this house.

After everything in my previous life, I understood that from the moment Ethan Grant invaded this family, my mom, dad, and sister all became his possessions alone.

Late at night, Ethan tiptoed out of bed. I squinted, pretending to sleep, and watched him head straight for Mom and Dad's room.

"Mom, Dad, it's so dark. My eyes hurt. I'm scared..."

My parents, their heads clouded by sympathy, didn't stop to think how Ethan, in such an unfamiliar environment, could successfully find their room if his eye condition had suddenly flared up.

They just held Ethan tenderly, tears nearly falling from their eyes.

"Ethan, don't be afraid. Mom and Dad are here."

Ethan trembled as he burrowed into Mom's arms, looking frightened.

"Mom, Dad, can I really stay in this house? Just now, my brother, he..."

Hearing this, my heart sank. The next second, Dad stormed into my room without a word and pulled me from bed where I was still pretending to sleep.

"What did you say to Ethan! Why are you so inconsiderate? Ethan's been sick since childhood and has such a tragic background. Can't you just be nice to him?"

"Don't do this. Caleb's still young. Just teach him and he'll understand!"

Though Mom's mouth was telling Dad to stop, she still held Ethan tightly with no intention of coming to protect me.

In the end, they took Ethan back to their own room and locked me, still wearing thin pajamas, outside their door. Mom used to check on me at night, tucking me in before leaving. They seemed to have forgotten I was only a seven-year-old child who was also afraid of the dark and cold, at the age when I most needed my parents' love.

In my previous life, Ethan often did this—first pretending his eye condition was acting up, then fabricating baseless lies to slander me while my saint-like parents' sympathy was overflowing.

Young me gradually realized the danger. Since his arrival, I'd gone from a well-behaved, lovable youngest son in my parents' eyes to a "bad boy."

So I began competing with Ethan Grant secretly, comparing myself to him in everything. Whatever Ethan had, I had to have too. Ethan was skilled at performing in front of others, acting gentle, timid, and constantly yielding. Mom and Dad felt they owed him even more.

I competed with Ethan Grant my entire life and never won at anything. Even my sister, who used to love me most, became infatuated with Ethan Grant.

Everyone in the art world knew the Grant family had a pitiful genius adopted son, Ethan Grant, and a domineering, jealous good-for-nothing biological son, Caleb Grant.

This life, I decided to stop competing with Ethan Grant. I would live the life I truly wanted.