By the time my mother was pregnant, my parents had already reached a firm consensus on education. If it was a girl, she would be raised in luxury. If it was a boy, he would be raised in hardship. They never expected twins. So, they made a radical choice: they split us up. I stayed in the city as a pampered heiress, while my brother was sent to a remote farm with our mother to work the land. Eighteen years later, I followed my father to the countryside. In the distance, I saw a young man with sun-bronzed skin hauling two heavy crates of vegetables. I asked, "Dad, are we here on a charity mission?" My father looked the boy over and nodded with satisfaction. "Charity? No. Get to know him—this is your brother." 1 I stared at the boy. His features were strikingly similar to my father’s. Then, a woman dressed in simple, rugged clothes stepped out of the farmhouse. My world tilted. Wasn't this my mother, who was supposed to be on a permanent business trip in Europe? The boy looked confused. "Mom, is this your new boyfriend or something?" My mother laughed, ruffling his hair. "Don't be smart. This is your father. And this is your twin sister, Aria." The boy looked even more lost. "My dad? You told me he died in a construction accident to pay for my baby formula..." My mother beamed. "Well, you just got into a top-tier university, so he’s risen from the grave. Aren't you happy?" Neither my brother nor I found the joke funny. My mother handed Silas’s acceptance letter to my father and finally laid out the truth. Eighteen years ago, they saw too many of their friends fail as parents. The wealthy kids around them were becoming soft and entitled. They were terrified. So, they drafted a plan. A daughter would be raised in high society, making her untouchable to the common man. A son would be raised in poverty, hardened by manual labor to eventually lead the family empire. To prevent us from influencing each other, they kept us apart. I received an elite education in the city. Silas received a "tough-love" education on a farm. My father was only here because Silas had finally "proven himself" with his college acceptance. I watched my parents look at Silas with such adoration, and a bitter taste filled my mouth. I knew that tonight’s celebration wasn't for me. It was for the return of the king. 2 I looked at Silas. He smelled of soil and sweat, standing there with a timid posture. My parents told him to pack his things immediately to head back to the estate. Silas whispered, "The local diner is still waiting for their produce." "I’ll handle it," my father said, ordering me to help Silas pack. When Silas walked into his room later, the tension was thick. I wanted to offer help, but he shot me a look of pure disgust. "Don't touch my stuff!" I walked out, frustrated. In the yard, I saw that the vegetable garden Silas had spent years tending had been completely stripped. The neighbors were thanking my father for his "generosity." I looked back at Silas. His eyes were hollow. He had spent his life watering those plants, only for my parents to give them away for free to buy social favors. My father didn't care about the price of a few vegetables. Silas packed his life into tattered duffel bags. My father frowned. "Just take your IDs. That trash can be thrown away." Silas gripped the bags and didn't move. "Silas!" my father’s voice turned sharp. "Mom said you should use things until they’re gone," Silas said quietly. Mother smiled. "The hard times are over, Silas. You’re coming home to the good life." Silas tightened his jaw and condensed his life into a single bag. On the drive back, my parents took turns bragging. Mother took credit for Silas’s "blue-collar grit." Father bragged about me being the most sought-after debutante, already engaged to the Blackwood heir. They thought they were geniuses. I thought they were insane—manufacturing suffering just for an ego trip. 3 On the drive, Silas didn't speak a word, staring out the window. As the farms faded and the skyscrapers rose, his curiosity was replaced by a heavy dread. When we pulled into the Sterling estate, he looked completely lost. I tried to talk to him, but his face suddenly went white. Our Husky, Duke, lunged forward, barking ferociously at the stranger. Silas fell backward onto the gravel, trembling. I was horrified. "Silas! Are you okay?" My father sneered. "Scared of a dog? What a coward." Mother sighed. "Honestly, Silas. It’s just a dog. Don't be so pathetic." I grabbed Duke’s leash. "He’s just loud, Silas. He’s gentle. Look, you can pet him." I pulled the dog closer. Silas crawled backward, his eyes wild with rage. "GET HIM AWAY FROM ME!" I signaled a maid to take the dog away. Silas stood up, his tall frame looming over me. His voice was shaking. "Try being locked in a shed with a starving stray for three days because you missed a chore. Then tell me he’s gentle." I stared at him, stunned. My father didn't care. "That was to fix your attitude. A man shouldn't be afraid of a pet." Silas’s fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white. I saw the way he looked at my parents. For a second, I thought he was going to kill them. Instead, he looked at Duke, who was happily chewing on a bone Mother had given him. Silas looked at the dog, then at himself. He realized he hadn't moved to a palace. He had just moved to a more expensive prison. 4 My parents forced us to get ready for the gala. "This is the night you officially become the Sterling heir," my father told him. He had spent months planning this, inviting every major CEO in the city. Silas looked handsome in a tuxedo, but he moved like a man walking to his execution. In the ballroom, he stared at the crystal chandeliers with disbelief. I led him through the crowd. "Silas, this is my fiancé, Julian." Julian looked at Silas’s calloused hands and smirked. He spoke in rapid French to me. "Your brother looks like a farmhand in a costume. Stay away from him, Aria." I felt a sting of discomfort. "He’s brilliant. He got into a top school." "So what?" Julian sneered. "My company is full of top-tier grads. Pedigree is what matters here." 5 After a dance, I heard my parents lecturing Silas about social etiquette. They forced him to ask a billionaire’s daughter to dance. It was a disaster. She screamed when he stepped on her toes and called him a "hillbilly." The room erupted in whispers. My father was livid. "You’ve humiliated the Sterling name! How hard is it to follow a beat?" "I didn't ask for this," Silas whispered. "You do what you're told!" Father roared. "If I told you to jump off a bridge, you’d do it for this family!" "Do you want me to?" Silas asked. Father’s face turned purple. "Is this the 'tough' kid you raised? He’s useless!" Silas looked at my mother, pleading for help. She didn't move. "This is your life now, honey. You’ll learn." They had built a "Truman Show" for Silas, and every move was calculated. I watched Silas’s shoulders slump. "He’s broken," Julian whispered in my ear. "Why?" "Because he’s poor in his soul," Julian laughed. "He’s hollow." 6 Silas didn't get a summer vacation. He was sent to elite grooming classes. Every day, I heard my parents berating him. "Why can't you play golf like the others?" "Why are you so quiet? Act like you belong!" Silas’s head dropped lower every day. I began to hold my breath whenever I passed him in the halls. I never saw him smile. Not once. The house felt like a bomb waiting to explode. My parents told me to help him. "He’s going to be your backer when you marry into the Blackwoods." "Maybe he’s not meant for this," I whispered. My father’s gaze was like a knife. "He has no choice!" I realized then that my father never considered me. No matter how hard I worked, I was just a pawn to be traded away. I took Duke for a walk to clear my head. Near the lake, I heard someone screaming. I saw Silas on the grass, wearing his old farm clothes, chest heaving. I walked over and handed him a bottle of water. He jumped like a startled animal, accidentally bumping into me. We both fell onto the grass. I started giggling. He looked at Duke, who was tied up far away, and he finally relaxed. I sat down. "Still having a hard time?" "Yeah," he whispered. Our first real conversation.
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