My little brother has a gift. He can hear people's thoughts. When our parents died, our aunt and uncle both stepped up to take us in. Aunt Manon showed up looking ragged and exhausted, wearing faded clothes. Uncle James, on the other hand, was dripping in designer labels from head to toe. But Noah chose Manon. He clung to her because the voices in his head told him she was actually secretly loaded, hiding a massive fortune. As for James? His thoughts revealed his clothes were all rentals. He was just fronting, trying to look wealthy so we wouldn’t feel insecure. When James gently took my hand, Noah shot me a smug, pitying look. He whispered that if I ever wanted to wear nice clothes, I could fish his hand-me-downs out of the trash. He honestly thought he was the main character. He thought his mind-reading made him invincible, the chosen one. What he didn’t know was that I had a secret of my own. I could see the comments. A floating, glowing stream of text that told me exactly what the future held. The comments said Manon was a sinking ship. She was cursed with a toxic fate, destined to drag down anyone foolish enough to tie themselves to her. The comments also said that while James cared too much about his pride, he had a heart of gold. His luck was about to turn, and his family would slowly build a beautiful, comfortable life. Someone in the floating text mentioned that Noah relied too heavily on the voices in his head. And the biggest twist of all? His ability came with an expiration date. The moment he turned eighteen, the voices would go permanently silent. Looking at his arrogant smirk, I could already see the absolute tragedy waiting for him at the finish line. 1 The moment Manon and James stepped into the sterile hospital hallway, my brother Noah practically shoved me toward James. His expensive cologne was overpowering. Noah put on his best puppy-dog eyes and let his lip quiver. "Ollie, you go with Uncle James," Noah said softly. "I'm younger. I can handle roughing it. You've always had it easier, so you should be the one to go live the good life with him." I watched James's face twitch with an unnatural, guilty expression. Manon, meanwhile, looked down at Noah with pure adoration and patted his shoulder. "Our little Noah is growing up," she cooed. "Already learning how to sacrifice for his family." James looked at Noah, his large hands awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of his rented tailored jacket. "Noah, are you absolutely sure you don't want to come with me? Don't you remember? I used to carry you on my shoulders when you were a baby." Noah forced a pained, conflicted look onto his face. "Uncle James, I know you really care about me. But Ollie was always mom and dad's favorite. He's spoiled. He can't survive eating scraps and sleeping on a hard mattress. As his little brother, I'm used to giving him the best of everything. Please don't make this harder than it is. Let Ollie go with you." With that, he gently nudged me closer to James, playing the part of the heartbroken martyr perfectly. If I hadn't known the truth, I might have actually bought his performance. But right on cue, the glowing text began scrolling across my vision. [Bro can literally hear thoughts. He knows the uncle's Rolex is a fake and the suit is rented! James just didn't want the kids to feel poor.] [Manon is the real hidden millionaire here. She's loaded.] So that was it. Noah could hear the truth. It made perfect sense now. A kid who threw a tantrum if his pillow wasn't fluffed properly was never going to willingly choose a life of poverty with our supposedly broke aunt. Besides, I hadn't even recognized the brand of James's suit. Noah spotted it instantly. I knew exactly why both of them wanted Noah instead of me. Our parents had never hidden their blatant favoritism. Even though I brought home straight A's and kept my head down, they only ever paraded Noah in front of the relatives. They painted me as the difficult child, the liar, the jealous older brother who needed constant discipline. I couldn't exactly go door-to-door defending myself to the extended family. Over time, everyone just assumed I was a lost cause. Even now, standing over the tragic reality of our parents' sudden passing, Manon and James had rushed here to claim Noah. I was just the consolation prize. James finally took my hand. "You're too good for your own sake, Noah," James sighed, his voice thick with emotion. "Are you really sure? I promise I'd give you everything I have." He meant it. James had two daughters at home. He had always wanted a quiet, obedient son, and Noah's carefully crafted persona fit the bill perfectly. Manon stepped in smoothly. "James, stop pressuring the poor boy. He clearly made his choice. Don't make him uncomfortable. Besides, you need to think about Oliver's feelings." Only then did the two adults seem to remember I had been standing there the whole time, fading into the background like peeling wallpaper. James looked at me, a deep flush creeping up his neck. "Ollie, I didn't mean to make you feel unwanted. It's just that you're older. You understand how these things work, right?" I offered a careless, easy smile. Before I could say it was fine, Noah cut in. "Don't worry, Uncle James. Ollie has a really good memory. Just make sure you treat him well. I'll come visit you guys when I have some free time." A good memory. That was his coded way of calling me vindictive. Even on his way to securing a golden ticket, he couldn't resist throwing mud at my name. James hesitated for a split second, clearly picking up on the toxic undertone. But the ink was already dry on the decision. As Noah followed Manon down the hall, he brushed his shoulder against mine. He paused, leaning in close so only I could hear. "You're clueless, Ollie," he whispered, a nasty grin stretching across his face. "James is totally faking it. Get ready to starve in the slums. Guys like you don't have what it takes to live at the top." I watched him strut away like a general who had just conquered a city. A small, genuine smile touched my lips. Because the comments were flooding my vision again. [This kid is so stupid. Manon has cash, yeah, but her fate is cursed! She's a walking black hole. She'll drag him down with her!] [Uncle James cares too much about his image, but he's a genuinely good guy. His karma is insane, he's going to strike it rich soon.] [The brother relies way too much on his mind-reading. It's making him lazy.] [Wait till he finds out the gift vanishes on his eighteenth birthday. Poof, gone.] [Yikes. I can already smell the absolute disaster waiting for him.] I shoved my hands into my pockets. I guess we'd see if Noah could actually handle all that heavy, glittering wealth. 2 James guided me out to the parking lot and unlocked a sleek, midnight-black luxury sedan. The soft click of the doors echoing in the quiet lot. He still felt guilty for making it so obvious he wanted Noah. He glanced at me in the passenger seat, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Ollie. Please don't hold this against me. I have my reasons, things are a bit complicated right now. But since you're coming with me, I swear on my life I won't let you suffer." I didn't know what his complicated reasons were yet. But the glowing text had confirmed his good heart. He wouldn't mistreat me. Still, I wasn't naive enough to blindly trust magical floating words. I was seventeen. I needed a legal guardian and a roof over my head. My plan was simple: keep my head down, study hard, and build my own escape hatch. Once I was on my own feet, I would never rely on anyone's charity again. I decided to test the comments. I looked out the window and kept my voice perfectly flat. "Uncle James, you can return the car now." His hands locked onto the leather steering wheel. His knuckles turned bone-white. It made sense. Truly wealthy people rarely drove themselves to pick up grieving relatives in a hospital lot. Plus, James's worn-out posture didn't match the crisp tailoring of his suit. He let out a long, heavy exhale. He didn't get defensive or angry. Instead, a tired, self-deprecating chuckle escaped his chest. "You saw right through me, huh? You're a sharp kid, Ollie. I just didn't want you two to feel ashamed of me. Especially since your Aunt Manon..." He stopped himself, chewing on his lower lip. I knew how that sentence ended. He knew Manon was loaded, but since Noah picked the supposedly poor aunt, James didn't want me feeling like I got the short end of the stick. He held his tongue to protect my pride. The comments were right. He was too good for this world. But if he was so selfless, why had he fought so hard to take Noah instead of me? Our parents had barely spoken to James or Manon over the years. They both lived out of state. I had no clue what their bank accounts looked like. Noah only knew because of the voices in his head. I pushed the questions away. I had spent my whole life accepting whatever hand I was dealt. If my parents gave Noah the world and gave me the scraps, I ate the scraps. I never begged. I never fought for their scraps of affection. Blood didn't mean loyalty. Relatives could still lie. You could only ever count on yourself. James listened to me. He drove the luxury car back to the rental agency, swapped his designer suit for comfortable, faded jeans and a plain gray sweater, and walked out looking like a completely normal, tired dad. I sat in the passenger seat of his beat-up, rattling sedan. The heater smelled faintly of old coffee. He climbed in, flashing me a warm, goofy smile. "What are you craving, Ollie? Sarah and the girls probably ate already. How about we hit up that fancy burger joint downtown? The one with the crazy milkshakes?" A sudden, sharp tightness gripped my chest. Growing up, money was supposedly tight. Mom and Dad preached the gospel of saving every penny. We were never allowed to eat out. But if Noah whined about wanting a gourmet sundae, they would drop everything and drive him to the nicest diner in town. They never waited for me to get home from school. I only found out because Noah would intentionally bring his leftovers home. He would sit at the kitchen island, scraping the melting, sugary mess into his mouth with painful slowness, making sure I watched him swallow every bite. He would wait hours until it turned to liquid, just to see the hunger and jealousy in my eyes. In my mind, things like diners and milkshakes belonged to a world I wasn't allowed to enter. James must have asked around to figure out what kids my age liked, just to make me smile. I shook my head and pointed to a dimly lit diner across the street. "Let's just get some hot soup. I really like soup." The things I couldn't have back then, I didn't want anymore. One day, I would buy everything I ever wanted with my own money. James blinked, surprised, but he nodded. A few minutes later, we were sitting across from each other in a cracked vinyl booth, waiting for our food. "You know, Ollie," James said softly, swirling his water glass. "You really aren't anything like what your parents said you were." His honesty caught me off guard. It also made me realize why he had gone broke renting luxury gear just to win Noah over. If you have to take in a kid that isn't yours, feed them, and share your home for years, of course you'd want the "easy" kid. He wasn't malicious. He was just tired. I offered a small, quiet smile. "Time tells the truth about people." James's face lit up, the tension finally melting from his shoulders. "Listen to you, sounding like a philosopher. I bet you're top of your class." He was right. I was always at the top. Noah was always at the bottom. Once, when we were little, Noah failed a massive math test. He came home, threw himself into our mother's arms, and sobbed until she bought him a new video game to make him feel better. That exact same day, I brought home a perfect score. I burst through the front door, waving the paper, eager to finally make them proud. But Noah saw it and started screaming hysterically. "Ollie is doing it on purpose! He just wants you to hate me! Make him stop!" That night, Noah got a bucket of fried chicken in his room. I was shoved into the basement without dinner, told to reflect on my toxic, competitive attitude. I learned the rules of the house that night. My excellence was a threat. The only way to survive was to be aggressively mediocre. From then on, I turned in blank test papers. I did the math in my head, wrote the perfect answers on scrap paper to prove to myself I knew it, and handed in nothing. I celebrated my genius in total silence. Looking at James now, seeing the genuine pride shining in his eyes over a simple conversation, my throat locked up. I stared down at my bowl, letting the steam hide the tears that fell silently into the broth. 3 When we finally pulled up to James's house, his wife Sarah opened the door with a bright, welcoming smile. The moment her eyes landed on me instead of Noah, the smile froze into a tight, brittle mask. She grabbed James by the sleeve and aggressively yanked him into the master bedroom. I stood frozen in the narrow hallway. My chest tightened. I didn't know if I should take my shoes off or turn around and walk back out into the cold. Thankfully, my two older cousins, Lily and Grace, bounced into the hall. They warmly dragged me inside, fighting over who got to show me my new room and forcing a plate of sliced apples into my hands. As we walked past the master bedroom, the door was cracked just enough for me to hear James's "complicated reasons." Sarah's voice was a harsh, angry hiss. "You were supposed to bring Noah! You brought the delinquent? The liar? How am I supposed to fix a kid like that? I don't have the energy!" "He's seventeen, James! His personality is baked in. He's ruined. We spent all that money renting that stupid car and that suit just to impress Noah, and you bring back the problem child?" James's deep voice rumbled in defense. "He's here now, Sarah. Let it go. He's not what his parents made him out to be. He's incredibly well-spoken and polite." Sarah's anger deflated into a long, exhausted sigh. When they finally opened the door, they found me standing awkwardly near the kitchen. Sarah's face flushed deep red. She forced a painfully stiff smile. "Ollie. Welcome to the family." The glowing text flared to life in the corner of my vision. [You can't really blame Aunt Sarah. Nobody wants a teenager with a terrible reputation. They barely have enough money to survive as it is. She's just burnt out.] [She's a good person at heart. She'll treat him like her own flesh and blood eventually. Noah really messed up. He threw away a family that would have actually loved him.] Reading that, the knot in my stomach loosened. Sarah wasn't evil. She was just terrified of drowning under the weight of an awful kid. I could fix that. I met her nervous gaze and stood up straight. "Aunt Sarah. I don't eat much. I will study hard, and I'll take over the chores. You won't have to worry about me causing trouble." Just please don't hate me. I swallowed the last sentence. As long as I proved my worth, they wouldn't throw me out. James shot his wife a lethal glare, clearly realizing I had heard every word of their argument. Sarah looked completely lost for words, guilt pooling in her eyes. I didn't want to drag out the awkwardness, so I picked up my duffel bag. "I'll go unpack. Just leave whatever needs cleaning for me tomorrow." I saw Sarah's eyes instantly well up with tears as she stood paralyzed in the doorway. I ducked into my new room and quietly shut the door, finally exhaling a breath I felt like I'd been holding for years. I looked around. The walls were painted a soft, dusty pink. Faded pop star posters hung near the ceiling. But the bedsheets were a crisp, masculine navy blue. A brand-new desk sat in the corner, and a freshly assembled wardrobe held packs of new socks and underwear. It hit me immediately. This used to be one of my cousins' rooms. Lily and Grace had shoved a bunk bed into the remaining bedroom just to make space. But this wasn't done for me. Money was painfully tight, but James and Sarah had emptied their pockets to buy new furniture and sacrifice their daughters' comfort, all to give Noah the perfect welcome. I was sleeping in the bed they built for him. I was getting his leftovers. Again. Why did he always get the best of everything without even trying? I collapsed onto the mattress. The exhaustion finally caught up with me, and hot, silent tears soaked into the brand-new pillowcase. My cracked phone buzzed aggressively against my leg. It was a barrage of videos from Noah.
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