1 The day my father signed over 30% of the company to the golden boy he raised instead of me, the woman I’d loved for ten years dumped me. “Omid,” Kiki said, sitting across from me in the cafe booth. “This is it for us.” A tremor ran through my fingertips. “Why?” “I’ve been waiting for five years,” she said, her eyes welling up. “You told me that once you got your stake in the family business, we could finally buy a place in the city, get married. And now? Where’s the equity, Omid?” I started to explain, but she cut me off. “In your parents’ eyes, you, their real son, are worth less than the one they adopted. I’m thirty, Omid. I don’t have time to be part of your family’s psychodrama anymore.” She grabbed her coat and walked away without a backward glance. My phone screen lit up. It was a picture from my mother, a photo of Leo at the equity signing ceremony. The voice message that followed was bubbling with joy. “Leo is officially a shareholder! We can finally relax.” The look of smug satisfaction on Leo’s face in the photo made me laugh until tears streamed down my face. I left the “Shaw Family” group chat and blocked every last one of them. Since you chose him, so be it. Your precious reputation, your web of obligations… they mean nothing to me now. I just wonder if you’ll remember the son you threw away when your darling boy, the one you poured everything into, burns your entire world to the ground. Three days later, an unfamiliar number buzzed relentlessly. “Omid, how could you just block your parents? That’s so childish!” It was my Aunt Carol, my mother’s younger sister. “Is there something you need?” My voice was flat. “Your mother is sick with worry! Her heart is acting up! She couldn’t reach you, so she had to call me.” The accusations rained down on me like hail. “You need to unblock them right now and call your mother.” “We have nothing to say to each other,” I bit out. “You…” Aunt Carol was speechless for a moment, then her tone turned sour. “Is this really just because they gave the shares to Leo? He grew up in the company, he knows the business…” “Knows the business?” I let out a cold laugh. “Aunt Carol, is giving the adopted son a million dollars’ worth of company stock what you call ‘knowing the business’? While I, the biological son, get nothing?” Silence on the other end. “Last month, I found a condo in Queens I wanted to buy. A million bucks. The down payment was three hundred thousand. I was a hundred and fifty grand short.” “I begged them to lend me the money for the down payment. I promised to pay it all back, with interest. Do you know what they said?” My aunt said nothing. I scoffed. “My father told me a man needs to stand on his own two feet, that it wasn’t their obligation. My mother told me New York was too expensive and asked why I didn’t just move back home.” The line was dead quiet. “And then,” my voice trembled with a rage I couldn’t contain, “they turned around and handed a million-dollar stake in the company to Leo. He’s twenty-five, an art major making eight grand a month who does nothing but shop and party. My mother said he needed a foothold in the company.” “Well…” “Aunt Carol, I’m not jealous of Leo. I just want to know one thing: am I their son or not? I’m out here killing myself trying to build a life, and they tell me to do it on my own. But the spoiled brat who only knows how to spend their money? They couldn’t wait to hand him the keys to the kingdom.” “Omid, your parents were just thinking about the company’s future…” “The company?” I cut her off. “They didn’t even find me until I was twenty-two. Haven’t they done enough to ‘compensate’ him in the last eight years? Leo’s designer clothes, his tuition to study abroad—the family paid for all of it. And now that he wants to play businessman, they’re willing to give him a core stake in the company, all for the sake of their reputation as ‘generous, loyal’ people?” Aunt Carol sighed. “Your parents are from a different generation. They feel a responsibility to the son they raised.” “And what about their responsibility to their actual son?” I shot back. “I’m thirty years old. A five-year relationship just ended because of this. Aunt Carol, you tell me. What am I supposed to do?” “Kiki… broke up with you?” she asked, surprised. “The day after my mother sent me that picture.” My laugh was bitter. “She said she couldn’t marry a man who meant nothing to his own parents.” My aunt was completely silent. “They want to be saints. Fine. I’ll let them,” I said. “But from this day forward, they can consider me dead. If they get sick, if they need anything, they can go to their precious investment. The one they bought for a million dollars.” “Omid, don’t say things you don’t mean…” I hung up. The world was finally quiet. I opened my laptop and started searching for cheap apartments on the outskirts of the city. The Bronx, Jersey City… I didn’t care how far or how rundown it was, as long as I could stay in this city. That three-hundred-thousand-dollar down payment? I’d earn it myself. Without anyone’s help. A week later, I was working late when an unknown number called. “Hello?” “Omid. It’s me.” It was my father. His voice sounded exhausted. I said nothing. “You’re not even going to answer my calls now?” “What do you want?” “Your mother’s in the hospital. High blood pressure.” My heart sank, but a layer of ice quickly formed over it. “Is it serious?” “She needs to be kept for observation.” He paused. “Take a few days off and come home.” “I’m busy. I can’t get away.” “Work is more important than your mother?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Yes,” I answered calmly. “Since I can’t rely on my mother, work is all I have left to rely on.” I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing on the other end. “Omid, do you think you’re so tough now? You’d throw away your own parents over a little stock?” “Dad, it wasn’t ‘a little stock.’ It was a million dollars,” I corrected him. “It was our chance at a life in this city, a chance you personally destroyed.” “It’s our company! We can give it to whoever we want!” he roared. “You’re right,” I agreed. “And my time and energy belong to me. Right now, I need to give them to my job.” “You…” He was choking on his anger. “Mom’s in the hospital, but you’re there, aren’t you? And you have your beloved Leo. He just came into a million dollars. Shouldn’t he be the one to step up and play the devoted son?” “You ungrateful bastard!” “Dad, let’s do the math,” I cut him off. “I make twelve grand a month. If I take time off, I lose my salary plus my attendance bonus. That’s about two thousand dollars down the drain. The round-trip train ticket is another thousand. And the cost of my time is even higher. This trip would cost me at least ten grand.” He was silent, his breathing growing heavier. “You still have 70% of the company, don’t you? Can’t you afford her medical bills?” He gasped. “How did you know there was 70% left?” That question shattered the last shred of warmth I had for him. “So it’s true. You did keep 70%,” I said, my laugh ice-cold. “Last week, Aunt Carol told me you practically bankrupted yourselves giving Leo his shares, that you had to bribe the board. I almost believed her.” They weren't stupid. They’d kept a safety net for themselves. A safety net that never included me. “One hundred percent of the company,” I said, spelling it out. “You gave 30% to your adopted son and kept 70% for yourselves. But you wouldn’t even lend your biological son a hundred and fifty grand.” I paused. “Dad, what are your hearts made of?” A long, heavy silence. “Omid…” he started, trying to explain. “Don’t,” I interrupted. “You have the money for Mom’s treatment. You have the time to take care of her. And so does Leo. It doesn’t matter whether I come back or not.” “You’re really not coming?” He sounded incredulous. “No,” I said. “Take care.” I hung up and blocked his number. The fluorescent lights of the office made my face look ghostly pale. I slumped over my desk, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. So it was true. In their eyes, I was worthless. They would rather give their fortune to a stranger than spare a dime for me. Fine. This way, the break was cleaner. I had nothing to feel guilty about. A month later, a party was held at a lavish hotel back home to celebrate Leo’s appointment as Vice President. Photos and videos flooded the family group chat. Even though I’d left, a “well-meaning” cousin sent them to me privately. “Omid, look how amazing your brother is doing! Your parents must be so proud!” “How could you not come back for something this important?” I deleted everything without a flicker of emotion. The next day, my grandmother called. “Omid, honey. Are you still angry?” “Grandma,” I said, my voice softening. “You didn’t come to Leo’s party yesterday. Your parents lost a lot of face,” she sighed. “All the relatives were asking about you. They had to tell everyone you were busy with a big project.” “I am busy.” “I heard about you and Kiki…” “Yeah.” “Such a shame,” she sighed again. “Your parents really messed this one up. Ignoring their own son just to put on a show for everyone else.” The phrase “messed this one up” made my eyes burn. It was the first time since this whole nightmare began that a family member had taken my side. “I’m okay, Grandma.” “Oh, you…” she said. “Your father is obsessed with his image. He’s always felt like he owed Leo something. Giving him the shares was his way of paying a debt and showing off at the same time.” “So he traded my happiness for his pride?” “He wasn’t thinking clearly,” she said. “I bet your mother and Leo’s biological mother put him up to it.” “The result is the same.” “They got drunk last night, bragging about how the whole family respects them now.” Her tone was dismissive. “I told them off. I said, ‘Your own house is falling apart, and you’re busy fixing someone else’s roof!’” I listened quietly. “Don’t hold a grudge, honey. You can always make more money, but when family is gone, they’re gone for good.” “I’m not holding a grudge,” I said. “I just see things clearly now.” “What do you see?” “That you can’t rely on anyone but yourself,” I said. “I’ll buy my own house. I’ll build my own life. They have their golden boy to take care of them in their old age. That’s great.” “Oh, you stubborn child…” “Don’t worry, Grandma. I’m doing fine,” I said. “When I buy my place, you’ll be the first guest.” “Okay, honey. Okay,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. After we hung up, I stared out the window. The New York skyline was a glittering tapestry of dreams, but I knew that from now on, I would be walking this path alone. I opened my laptop and sent a proposal to my boss with a note attached: “If any overseas projects in the Middle East or Africa open up, please consider me first. I’m not afraid of hard work. I want the highest possible hazard pay.” He replied instantly: “Omid, are you crazy?” I typed back: “Not crazy. Just need to make money.” To scrape together the down payment, I put myself through hell. I moved out of my $2,500-a-month apartment in Queens and into a tiny, rundown studio in the Bronx that was a twenty-minute bike ride from the nearest subway station. The rent dropped to $1,500. My commute went from ninety minutes to three hours each way. I was up at 5:30 AM and home after 10:00 PM. I cut out every non-essential expense. Coffee, dinners with friends, movies, new clothes—all gone. Breakfast was two stale bagels. Lunch was the cheapest special in the cafeteria. Dinner was whatever discounted instant meal I could find at the grocery store. I took on a manic amount of freelance work. On weekends and late nights, I wrote proposals and reports for small companies, making a few thousand dollars per project. It was exhausting, but the money was fast. In three months, I lost twenty pounds. My eyes were sunken, my skin sallow. A coworker joked that I looked like I’d been abducted by aliens. Only I knew the truth: I was trading my life force for cash. The number in my bank account grew slowly but steadily. $80,000, $85,000, $92,000… Every thousand dollars was a step closer to my goal. During this time, my parents tried to reach me through relatives. My aunt: “Your mother cries every day, thinking about you.” My reply: “A shame she can’t call me, then.” My uncle: “Your dad’s blood pressure is through the roof. Are you trying to kill them?” My reply: “They have 70% of a company and a million-dollar son. They’ll be fine.” Even Leo called, his voice dripping with false sincerity and a hint of gloating. “Hey, bro. Heard you were having a tough time. Need any help? Now that I’m VP, I’ve got cash to spare.” “No, thanks.” “Don’t blame Mom and Dad. They just love me a little more, you know? How about I send you five hundred a month for living expenses?” He said it like he was offering a handout to a beggar. I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “Leo, how does that million-dollar stake feel in your hands? Enjoying the VP title? Does it feel good having everyone kiss your ass?” He was stunned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Stay out of my life,” I said. “And make sure you use that stock to take care of Mom and Dad in their old age. After all, you’re their successful investment.” I hung up and blocked his number. At the end-of-year company gala, I was named Salesman of the Year for my outstanding performance. The prize was a $50,000 bonus. My boss handed me the award and asked me to say a few words. Standing in front of hundreds of colleagues, my mind was a blank. “Thank you to the company, thank you to my managers…” I recited the clichés, my mind racing. Fifty grand, plus my savings and freelance income… that’s almost two hundred and fifty thousand. Only fifty thousand to go. Then, my eyes fell on someone in the audience. Kiki. She’d been invited as a former employee. She was dressed in a sharp power suit, laughing with the man next to her. Our eyes met for a split second. A flash of surprise and something more complicated flickered across her face. I gave her a curt nod and looked away. My heart, a placid lake. After the gala, I skipped the after-party and went home alone. My phone rang. It was Kiki. “Omid. Congratulations.” “Thanks.” “You’ve… lost a lot of weight.” “I’m fine.” “I heard about what happened with your family,” she said. “And I heard how hard you’ve been working.” “Yeah.” After a moment of silence, she said, “Could we… maybe start over?” I stopped on the sidewalk and looked at my reflection in a store window. Thin, exhausted, but my eyes were like steel. “Kiki,” I said calmly. “We can’t go back.” “Why not? Everything you were doing was for us, for our home. You’re almost there with the down payment…” “It was,” I cut her off. “But now, I’m doing this for me.” She was silent. “I wish you the best,” I said, and hung up. That night, I dreamed of college. Kiki and I were walking across the campus green. She asked me where I wanted to settle down. New York, I’d said. I want to give you a home here. I woke up to a cold, damp pillow. I opened my banking app and stared at the balance: $240,000. Almost there. I was almost there. I worked through the holidays, earning triple pay. On New Year’s Eve, I sat alone in the empty office, eating instant noodles while reviewing project data. Outside, fireworks exploded over the city, celebrating other people’s reunions. My phone buzzed. It was a video from my grandmother. In the video, she was at the head of the dinner table, surrounded by my parents, Leo’s biological mother Brenda, and Leo and his new wife. “Omid, Happy New Year! Make sure you’re eating well in New York!” Grandma shouted. My parents’ expressions were stiff. My mother’s eyes were red; my father’s face was a stony mask. Leo raised his glass toward the camera, his face flushed with wine. “Happy New Year, bro! Hope you get rich and find a new girl soon!” In the background, I could hear Brenda’s shrill voice. “Why would you say that? You’ll just make him feel worse! Our Leo is just so much more fortunate!” The video cut off. I finished my noodle soup and shut off my phone, my face impassive. Three days later, my aunt called. “You’re really not coming home? Your mom barely touched her food on New Year’s. She just cried the whole time.” “Oh.” “And your dad got drunk and called you an ungrateful wolf.” “He can say what he wants.” “You should see Leo now! He’s the king of the castle!” my aunt said, her voice giddy. “Your parents are talking about throwing another party to celebrate his success!” “Congratulations.” “Brenda has been dropping hints that they should just give the other 70% to Leo too, let him run the whole show.” My heart seized. “Did they agree?” “Your mom is hesitant, but your dad hasn’t said no. Brenda is in their ear every day, saying Leo is so much more capable than you, that he was groomed for this…” My aunt paused. “If you don’t come back soon, that 70% is really gone for good.” My knuckles turned white from gripping the phone. “I understand.” I hung up and immediately booked a train ticket. Not to fight for the shares. But to sever the ties for good. I arrived home at three in the afternoon to a living room full of people. My parents, Brenda, Leo and his wife, and a few gossipy neighbors were all there, deep in a lively discussion about the company’s future. “Don’t you worry, the company will be in great hands with Leo!” Brenda was saying, beaming at Leo’s in-laws. “And besides, Omid is their only son. Everything they have will be Leo’s one day anyway!” Leo’s mother-in-law smiled graciously. “You’re too kind!” My father sat in his armchair like a king, smoking a cigarette with a proud look on his face. My mother sat beside him, forcing a smile, her eyes darting nervously. I pushed the door open and walked in. The laughter died instantly. Everyone froze, staring at me as if I were a ghost. “Omid? What are you…” my mother stammered, jumping to her feet. My father’s face darkened. I ignored them, walking to the center of the room and scanning the crowd. “I hear you’re planning to give the remaining 70% of the company to Leo,” I said, getting straight to the point. Dead silence. Brenda’s face contorted. “Omid, don’t say things like that. It’s hurtful. We were just talking…” “Talking?” I looked at my father. “Dad, have you made a decision? Is he getting it or not?” My father, furious and embarrassed, crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. “This is Shaw family business. It’s none of your concern!” “Isn’t it?” I sneered. “When you gave him the first 30%, you said the rest was your retirement fund. Now you’re going to give that away too?” “I…” He was at a loss for words. “Big brother,” Brenda said, trying to smooth things over. “Omid is just worried about you. But Leo is managing the company so well! We’ll take care of you in your old age, don’t you worry!” She shot Leo a look. Leo took the cue and stood up. “Don’t worry, big brother. I’ll take care of Dad and Mom!” “You’ll take care of them?” I laughed. “With the money my parents gave you?” Leo’s face turned bright red. “Omid! Watch your mouth!” my father yelled, slamming his hand on the table. “Am I wrong?” I met his gaze without flinching. “What does an art major know about running a business? The only reason the company is still afloat is because of loyal clients and longtime employees. The second he runs it into the ground—and he will—you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t come begging you for more money. Take care of you? Dad, have you lost your mind?” “You insolent brat!” My father raised his hand to strike me. I didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. “Go ahead,” I stared at him. “You hit me, and whatever is left between us is officially over.” His hand froze in mid-air, then fell limply to his side. My mother started sobbing. “Please, don’t upset your father. His health isn’t good…” “I’m upsetting him?” I turned to her. “Mom, I’m asking you one last time. What are you going to do with the other 70%?” She just stammered and cried. “I’ll tell you what they’re going to do!” Brenda shrieked. “The shares should go to Leo! He’s earned them, running this company for the family! What have you done? You couldn’t even keep your own girlfriend!” “Shut up,” I snarled. The venom in my voice made her flinch. I took a deep breath, reached into my bag, and pulled out two things, slapping them down on the coffee table. The first was a bank statement, showing a balance of $240,000. The second was a document titled “Declaration of Familial Severance.” “First,” I said, “this is the money I earned through my own blood and sweat. It’s enough for a down payment on a small place. I did it without you, and I will never ask you for anything again.” “Second,” I held up the document for everyone to see. “Let’s get this straight, here and now, in front of everyone. You can give that 70% to whoever you want. I don’t want a single penny. But you sign this document, and from this day on, we are strangers. Your health, your life, your death—they have nothing to do with me. When I get married, when I have children, you will not be notified.” The room was utterly silent. My father stared at the document, his face ashen. My mother collapsed into a heap, sobbing. “Dad. Mom,” my voice was terrifyingly cold. “You wanted your reputation. You wanted to be ‘loyal.’ You wanted an adopted son who could run your company. I’m giving you what you want.” “All I want is my own life.” I placed a pen on top of the agreement. “Sign it.”
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