The silent war for the inheritance had begun. My parents had handed me and the “impostor son” each a startup, setting a three-year deadline. Whoever turned the biggest profit would take over the family empire. I drove myself into the ground to prove my worth. It wasn't just about the fortune; I was desperate for a single, approving glance from my parents. I slammed back glass after glass of hard liquor at business dinners until a bleeding ulcer landed me in the ER. Countless nights bled into dawn as I hunched over proposals, my office becoming my only home. The pride I once had? I swallowed it, learning to suck up, to read the room, to play the game and kiss the right asses. Just as my company’s profits were skyrocketing and victory was within my grasp, the woman who swore she loved me casually handed a game-changing contract to the impostor. He won without lifting a finger. If they were all going to play this dirty, then so was I. The gloves were coming off. 1 They threw a victory party for him on my birthday. Because I didn't show, my parents took turns calling to tear me apart. “Asher beat you, and now you can’t even show your face at his party? What will people think of us? If you were such a sore loser, you should never have agreed to the bet in the first place. You’re a disgrace.” “You have thirty minutes. If you’re not here, don’t ever bother coming back. We’ll consider ourselves son-less.” To legitimize Asher Blackwood’s claim to the family fortune, my parents had invited every big name in town to witness his coronation. The three-year wager between the real and fake Blackwood heirs was common knowledge in our circle. Some had even placed private bets on who would come out on top. For three years, they’d watched me grind, they’d seen my results. They bet on me to win. So when the news of my loss broke, they were stunned. Just a week before, my company’s profits had dwarfed Asher’s. Who could have guessed that my own girlfriend would hand him the win on a silver platter? When I first took over the startup, I knew nothing. My girlfriend, Genevieve, was already running her family’s corporation. I’d asked her for a little guidance. “You need to do this on your own, Noah,” she’d said. “Stop looking for shortcuts.” With that one sentence, she’d shut down any hope of help from her. And yet, the same person who told me not to take shortcuts had just opened the floodgates for someone else at the most critical moment. I could handle losing. But I couldn’t stomach the betrayal. Faced with my parents’ fury, I answered calmly, “It’s my birthday. Some friends and I are out on the boat. I can’t make it back.” Silence on the other end of the line. Clearly, they’d forgotten. Then, Asher’s voice, thick with feigned tears, drifted through the phone. “Does Noah still not want to come? Does he hate me for winning the bet? If I’d known, I would have just lost. I don’t want our family to fight.” Whatever guilt my parents might have felt vanished in an instant. My mother's voice turned sharp with irritation. “You knew today was the day Asher inherited the company, and you chose to go screwing around with your good-for-nothing friends. You’re doing this on purpose. Fine. Stay out for all we care.” She hung up. The old me would have dropped everything, rushed to their side, and desperately tried to explain. But now? I felt nothing. The only thing on my mind was catching more squid. My best friend loved fresh-caught calamari, and I intended to deliver. The day was a success. My friend and I feasted on our catch, even saw a pod of dolphins break the surface. We didn't head home until nine, spirits high. But a few unwelcome guests were waiting for me at my door. My father was the first to charge, his hand raised to strike me. My friend, Rick, was quicker. He yanked me back. I dodged the slap but lost my footing, tumbling to the ground. Rick winced, offering a hand to pull me up. My father, trembling with rage, roared, “If you had a problem, you could have come to me! Why did you have to call your grandmother and tattle on us? She’s been ill, recovering overseas for years. We never trouble her with anything! But today, she called, screamed at all of us, and now she wants to kick Asher out of the family. What did you say to her to make her that furious?” Asher collapsed to his knees before me, sobbing. “I don’t want the inheritance anymore! You can have it. Just say I lost the bet. Please, just don’t make them send me away. I only want to be with Mom and Dad. They’re all I have left…” I took a step back, my face a cold mask. “Don’t try that crap with me. I didn’t do anything.” My father couldn’t stand the sight of Asher kneeling. He rushed to help him up, his fury at me deepening. “You do it and then deny it? Don’t think your grandmother’s support means you can break our deal. We agreed, whoever wins, inherits. You lost because you weren’t good enough. What right do you have to steal this from Asher?” In that moment, I finally understood what it felt like to be truly unloved. I said nothing. Instead, I pulled out my phone and played a recording. The voices were clear. “I never knew Miss Devereaux had such feelings for Asher. It’s a good thing she stepped in. Otherwise, I would have had to arrange something behind the scenes. That boy, Asher, is too simple-minded. Three years, and he still couldn’t get that company off the ground. Not like him. He's got a calculating mind. If he took over, I doubt our retirement would be very peaceful.” It was my father’s voice. My mother paused, then said, “I didn’t tell you, dear. When Miss Devereaux visited last time, I let it slip that if Asher didn’t win, we’d have to marry him off to secure his future. I was just giving her a little push. I didn’t expect her to act so decisively. It seems her feelings for Asher are quite serious.” “Well, Miss Devereaux is a brilliant woman. Asher would do well with her. I just worry that Noah will throw a fit.” “Let him. As long as it doesn’t affect Asher’s happiness, he can do whatever he wants.” The recording ended. The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. I looked at them, my mind flashing back a month ago. My company’s profits were soaring, victory a sure thing. Then an employee burst in, telling me Asher’s company had just landed a massive partnership. The partner was Genevieve Devereaux. Blood roared in my ears. I called her immediately. She didn’t answer. Our bet had a clause: neither Asher nor I could receive any help or resources from the Blackwood family. But Asher, knowing Genevieve’s influence, had insisted on an addendum: Genevieve was also forbidden from helping me. My parents, in the name of “fairness,” had agreed without even asking me. The game had been rigged from the start. Asher had grown up in the Blackwood mansion, receiving the best education, groomed to manage a corporation. I had learned nothing. But to prove myself, I gritted my teeth and accepted. I had poured ten times the effort into it, only to lose to a backroom deal. The injustice was a bitter pill. I had driven to the family home that day, demanding an explanation. I found them in the garden, discussing this very thing. I stopped and listened, and the more I heard, the colder I grew. They never intended for me to be the heir. Even without Genevieve, they would have found another way to ensure Asher won. I didn't storm in and confront them. I just recorded their conversation. Driving away from the house, tears streamed down my face, my heart constricting until I could barely breathe. Later, Genevieve called. She claimed the partnership was a decision made by her marketing department after extensive research. It wasn't a personal favor, she said. I shouldn't overthink it. I didn’t cry or scream. I just said, “Okay, I understand,” and hung up. Some truths don’t need to be spoken aloud. “When… when did you record that? You were spying on us? You’re a monster.” My father’s eyes darted away, but he didn’t miss the chance to shift the blame. My mother joined in, her voice dripping with condemnation. “So you sent this to your grandmother? No wonder your father said you were cunning. You’re terrifying, stabbing us in the back like this. How could we ever trust you with the family business?” Seeing no remorse, not an ounce of regret, I forwarded the recording to my grandmother’s assistant. “I don’t have her number,” I said flatly. “You made sure of that from the beginning, telling me she was too ill to be bothered with matters here. A family friend gave me this contact, said it was a way to reach her. This is the first time I’ve ever sent a message.” Since returning to the Blackwood family, I had only seen my grandmother once, on a video call. I had no idea how she even found out about this ridiculous bet. My father’s tone suddenly softened. “Well, if you didn’t tell her, there’s no need to. This is a family matter, we’ll handle it ourselves. Your grandmother put a stop to the party tonight, so we’ll just… we’ll reconsider who is the most suitable heir.” Hearing his phony, placating words, I felt a wave of revulsion so strong it made me sick. My eyes, cold as ice, locked onto his. “You are… disgusting.” He looked utterly shocked. “What did you just say?”
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