My parents’ marriage was never about love. It was a merger. So after they designated me—a boy with no blood ties to either of their families, but who had received the finest education money could buy—as their sole heir, they went their separate ways to sow their wild oats. But the latest “true heir” to show up on our doorstep didn't know any of this. He just slapped a DNA test on the table in front of me, his chin held high. “You’ve been living my life for eighteen years. Don’t you think it’s time to give it back?” “Get a clue and get out,” he sneered. “And don’t think for a second I’m one of those useless characters from those real-vs-fake heir novels.” “I got my acceptance letter from MIT this year.” The live comment feed scrolling across my vision lit up in agreement. 【The real heir is finally back! I love this ruthless persona.】 【I can’t stand those guys who just play the victim, all crocodile tears and fake stumbles down the stairs.】 I gave a cold smile. He was the eighth one last month. Eleven the month before that. When would it ever end? — 1 After Leo slammed the paternity test down in front of me, he tilted his chin up, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You’ve been living my life for eighteen years. Now, it’s time to give it back, don’t you think?” Before I could even respond, the familiar, semi-transparent comment stream in front of my eyes began to flood with new messages. 【The real heir is back! Hell yes!】 【This is what I’m talking about, straight to the action! None of that boring setup!】 Leo was clearly pleased with his opening gambit. He cleared his throat, continuing with a script he’d likely lifted from some trashy web novel: “Get a clue and get out on your own, before I’m forced to make you.” Then, he added a little flourish of his own. “And don’t think I’m like those useless heirs from the stories. I got my acceptance letter from MIT this year.” The comments exploded. 【Whoa, a genius character? I’m sold!】 【The fake heir doesn’t stand a chance now.】 【Place your bets, how long until the fake heir ‘accidentally’ falls down the stairs? Hurry up with the classic scenes!】 I adjusted my glasses, my expression unreadable. After all, he was the sixth self-proclaimed “true heir” to show up with a DNA test this month. Last month, there were eight of them. The month before that, eleven. I almost had enough to form two soccer teams. Our butler, Peterson, stood behind me, not even bothering to lift an eyelid. A few of the maids, who were polishing antique vases nearby, exchanged subtle glances, the corners of their mouths twitching with suppressed laughter. The silence in the room stretched, thick with awkwardness. I broke it, my voice flat. “Are you finished?” Leo clearly hadn't expected this reaction. He stiffened his neck, retorting, “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t believe me?” “I believe you,” I said with a nod. I took the crumpled report from his hand and passed it to Peterson without a second glance. “If he shares my father’s blood, then he belongs in the Hebert family.” “Peterson, please show our… new young master to a guest room. What about the south-facing suite on the third floor? The view is quite nice.” Peterson bowed slightly. “Of course, Mr. Adrian.” The entire exchange was smooth, polite, and perfectly executed. Leo was completely stunned. The comment stream went quiet for a few seconds, then a few confused messages trickled through. 【??? This isn’t in the script?】 【Why isn’t the fake heir playing by the rules? Shouldn’t he be on his knees, begging for mercy?】 【I don’t know… this feels like punching a pillow.】 I looked at Leo’s face, now flushed a deep shade of crimson, and felt a genuine urge to laugh. This act, it seemed, was going to be a little more interesting than the last five. 2 Peterson led Leo up to the third-floor guest suite. I thought I might finally have a moment of peace, at least long enough to finish my tea. The next second, my door was kicked open. Leo stood in the doorway, pointing a finger at me. “This room! I want this one!” 【Here we go! The classic ‘stealing the room’ scene!】 【See? I told you. This is more like it!】 I looked up, meeting his gaze calmly. This was the master suite, the best room in the entire villa. He certainly had an eye for real estate. “Fine,” I said, closing my book and standing up. “But I should warn you, this room gets the full force of the afternoon sun. It can get incredibly hot. And the soundproofing is terrible. When someone’s using the home theater downstairs, it sounds like artillery shells are going off next to your ear.” Leo hadn’t anticipated I would agree so easily. The speech he had prepared died in his throat. He stood there for a moment, stunned, before managing to force out a single, defiant phrase. “I don’t care!” “Alright,” I nodded. “Then make yourself at home.” With that, I picked up my book and headed for the study next door, content to sleep there for the night. Leo was left standing in the middle of the room, the triumphant excitement draining from his face. At dinner, Leo finally got the tearful family reunion he’d been dreaming of. My father, Richard Hebert, and my mother, Eleanor, were both, for once, present at the table. Across the long expanse of polished mahogany, Leo sat opposite me. He spent a good few minutes working up his emotions before his eyes finally reddened. “Dad, Mom…” he began, his voice choked with a carefully crafted vulnerability. “You have no idea… what my life has been like all these years…” He launched into a heart-wrenching tale of his childhood, of never having enough to eat, of being scorned by his adoptive parents, and of his heroic struggle to earn his place at MIT. At the most dramatic moments, he even managed to squeeze out a few tears. The comment stream was moved. 【Oh, poor Leo! He’s been through so much!】 【Mr. and Mrs. Hebert, look at your amazing son!】 But at the head of the table, the two people who mattered most were completely unfazed. My father was wearing a Bluetooth earpiece, deep in a hushed, transatlantic conference call. My mother, Eleanor, was meticulously marking up a thick art auction catalog with a special pen. “This Monet’s Water Lilies,” she murmured to herself, “the estimate is far too conservative…” The grand dining room was filled with the solitary sound of Leo’s sobbing, which echoed awkwardly in the vast space. I was the only one paying him any mind, and only then to calmly cut into my steak and offer a piece of advice. “Your soup is getting cold.” Leo’s crying stopped abruptly. Finally, my father’s call ended. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked up at Leo, his brow furrowed in irritation. “You,” he said, pointing a finger at Leo, his voice sharp with impatience. “Are being loud.” My mother also looked up from her catalog, her gaze sweeping over him with a cool detachment. “Peterson, teach the new young master some table manners. We do not speak while eating.” With that, they both set down their silverware, rose from the table, and departed—one to his study, the other to her art gallery. From beginning to end, they never once asked Leo how he had fared all those years. Leo was left with his mouth agape, the tears forgotten in his eyes. 【Wait, what’s with this script?】 【Why aren’t these rich parents coddling him? Where’s the scene where they embrace their long-lost son and weep?】 【Is it just me, or is everyone in this family a little… off? Except for the new guy?】 I dabbed my lips with a napkin and stood up. As I passed by Leo, I paused, looking at his utterly lost expression. I finally offered a quiet parting shot. “Welcome home.” He jerked his head up to look at me, his eyes filled with nothing but confusion. 3 The next afternoon, I got a call from Isabella Thorne. The moment I answered, I was greeted by her unrestrained laughter. “Hey, Adrian. I hear you’ve got a new model in stock. Is this one any fun?” I leaned back on the living room sofa, turning a page in my economics journal, and gave a noncommittal, “Mm.” “MIT kid. He’s got… energy.” “Oh, a real brainiac, is he?” Isabella’s tone grew even more amused. “I have to come see this. Same old address? I’m on my way.” She hung up before I could reply. Half an hour later, Isabella’s flashy red convertible pulled into the driveway. She swept into the living room, a disappointed look on her face when she didn’t immediately spot her target. “Where is he? Are you hiding him?” “Upstairs. Probably still studying how to be a proper long-lost son.” Isabella burst out laughing. “My father mentioned something about it. Said he put on a whole waterworks show at the dinner table and your parents didn't even blink?” “More or less,” I said, setting my book down. “My father told him he was loud, and my mother told him to learn some table manners.” “Priceless,” Isabella said, slapping her thigh. “What an idiot, can’t even follow the script. Did he really think wealthy parents are all doting simpletons who revolve around their children?” As we were talking, footsteps descended the stairs. Leo had changed his clothes, but his expression was still sour. It seemed the complete dismantling of his worldview last night was still sinking in. “So this is him…” Isabella said, drawing out the words. “Yes. Leo.” Leo strode down the remaining steps and planted himself in front of us, his eyes fixed on Isabella. “You must be Adrian’s girlfriend, right?” 【Here it comes! The classic ‘drive a wedge between them’ move!】 【Go on, girl! Put him in his place!】 Isabella simply raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. Seeing her silence, Leo thought he’d struck a nerve and grew bolder. “I’m telling you, you should leave him while you can. He’s nothing but a fraud, an imposter who’s stolen my place. He doesn’t deserve you. Once my parents kick him out, he’ll be nothing. Stick with me, and the entire Hebert fortune will be ours.” I took a slow sip of my tea. Isabella smiled, a dazzling, cutting expression. “Kid, have you been reading so many of those trashy novels that your brain has turned to mush?” Leo’s face flushed a deep red. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means,” Isabella said, rising to her feet and stepping toward him, her height, amplified by her heels, giving her an overwhelming presence, “First, I’m not his girlfriend.” “Second, even if he is a ‘fraud,’ the business models and financial strategies inside his head are worth infinitely more than your little acceptance letter.” “And third, and most importantly,” she said, wagging a perfectly manicured finger at him. “You waltz in here making promises when you don’t even know who’s really in charge of this family? A lightweight like you isn’t even worthy of shining his shoes.” With a disdainful snort, Isabella turned and sat back down beside me. “Now run back upstairs,” she added without looking at him. “You’re an eyesore.” Leo glared at me, his chest heaving, before turning and stomping back up the stairs. Silence returned to the living room. Isabella swirled the coffee in her cup, turning to me with a wry smile. “This is the opponent you’re playing against? It’s almost too easy. A bit boring, don’t you think?” I looked at her, adjusted my glasses, and smiled back. She was right. Leo was just an appetizer. But no matter what other monsters or fools were waiting in the wings, one thing was certain. In this chaotic game that was only just beginning, Isabella Thorne was the one ally I could trust completely. 4 After Isabella’s verbal annihilation, Leo kept a low profile for a few days. He mostly sulked in the master suite he’d claimed, plotting God knows what. I was more than happy for the peace and quiet, and went about my days as usual, reading and managing my portfolio. But the tranquility only lasted for three days. On the fourth day, as I was heading downstairs for a glass of water, I saw Leo pacing back and forth near the top of the main staircase. He would peer down at the steep angle of the steps, then tentatively tap the edge of a stair with the toe of his shoe, muttering to himself. I leaned against the living room wall, water glass in hand, and watched him with a flicker of amusement. 【It’s happening! The classic ‘fall down the stairs’ scene!】 【My guess: the fake heir pushes the real one, the parents see it, and he’s disowned for good!】 【You got the script backwards. Obviously, the real heir is going to frame the fake one!】 【Finally! My heart is pounding, my hands are shaking! Is this it?】 I see. I adjusted my glasses, the picture becoming clear. It seemed Isabella’s words had gone completely over his head. For the next two days, he spent hours rehearsing near the staircase. Even from a distance, I could practically feel his internal struggle: Would the impact be greater if I landed head-first, or would the rolling posture be more convincing? Finally, he chose his auspicious day. That afternoon, my parents were out, leaving just the two of us and a few servants in the vast villa. As I was about to leave my study, I saw him waiting at the top of the stairs, a look of grim determination on his face. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, and he quickly shifted into position. One foot hovered in mid-air, his body leaned forward precariously, poised to tumble down at the slightest touch. I continued walking toward him, my pace steady. The comment stream went into a frenzy. 【Do it! Push him! Prove you’re not a coward!】 【This is it! The big moment! I can’t wait to see him roll!】 As I drew closer, Leo’s expression shifted from nervous to expectant, with a touch of theatrical martyrdom. I was just three steps away when my phone vibrated. I paused and pulled it out. It was a text from Peterson: 【Mr. Adrian, there is a gentleman at the door named Samuel. He claims to be your… brother.】 Another one. I glanced at Leo, still frozen in his absurd, one-legged pose, and gave him a polite nod. Then, I turned on my heel and walked toward the other staircase at the far end of the hall. Leo was completely petrified. He remained in his ridiculous pose, watching in disbelief as I calmly walked away. By the time I reached the grand foyer, Peterson was already escorting a young man inside. He was dressed in a simple white shirt and jeans, looking quiet, refined, and almost fragile. His eyes, however, bypassed me completely, locking onto Leo, who was still standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs. Leo finally snapped out of it, his face a mask of wary confusion as he stared at the intruder. The newcomer, Samuel, walked directly to the foot of the staircase. Then, from his canvas bag, he pulled out a file and threw it, hard, right into Leo’s face. The papers struck his skin with a sharp slap. Leo was stunned into silence. Samuel’s voice was soft, but it cut through the air with chilling clarity. “You imposter. It’s your turn to get out.”
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