Chapter 5
My father was shocked, as if he hadn’t quite grasped the words. “What?”
His assistant said again, “I’ve tried every method, checked everywhere he might’ve gone. There’s no sign of Jason.”
A frown pulled at my father’s face, the first trace of unease flickering in his eyes.
He stayed silent for a long time. Then, all at once, he slammed his hand on the table and burst out, “That ungrateful brat! That traitor! He knows Carson’s getting engaged and hides just to spite us? After everything our family has done for him! I spent so much raising him-”
But he stopped short. The words didn’t come.
Because, suddenly, he realized—he hadn’t really spent anything on me. Not money. Not time. Not even the smallest sliver of
attention.
Everything he had to give, he’d given to Carson. And me-his actual son-he had left to fend for myself in the shadows, clinging to whatever scraps of existence I could find in the cracks of this family.
And just like that, the anger drained from him. He fell silent.
The assistant jumped in quickly, trying to smooth things over. “Mr. Wheeler, maybe we should transfer him some money? He might come back if he sees it.”
My father considered it, then waved a hand. “Fine. Send him five thousand.”
The assistant hesitated. “Sir… that’s a bit much. Jason’s not used to having money. Even one or two thousand would be more than enough for him.”
That made my father pause. “What do you mean? Doesn’t he get regular allowance transfers?”
The assistant shook her head.
A deep crease formed between my father’s brows. Carson always got his allowance-handled by the assistant, like clockwork. He had assumed I was treated the same. It had never occurred to him to check.
“Then how has he been living?”
“His PhD stipend and some scholarship money,” the assistant replied quietly.
My father didn’t say anything after that. He just waved the assistant out of the room.
That night, when he came home from work, the whole family sat down to dinner. Carson had made his favorite soup.
As he set the bowl on the table, he brought me up again, like it was nothing.
“Last time I made this was for Jason,” he said with a casual smile. “But he slapped the whole bowl to the floor. My hand was wrapped up in bandages for days-it still hasn’t fully healed.”
For once, my father-usually the first to defend Carson-offered a rare counterpoint. “He probably didn’t mean it. Might’ve just bumped into you by accident.”
Carson froze, visibly startled. His expression turned wounded. “So you think I did it on purpose?”
My father, realizing Carson was upset, backpedaled immediately. “No, no, of course not. I’ve always trusted you.”
But something subtle had shifted at the table. The air felt slightly off.
Carson, playing innocent, asked again, “Any news about Jason?”
When my father shook his head, my mother finally grew uneasy.
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Chapter 5
+15 Bonus
She clutched his arm and, with a hint of hesitation, said, “Shouldn’t we check with his university? Maybe his coursemates know
where he went.”
This time, my father didn’t argue. He nodded without resistance.
The next day, they showed up at the university where I was doing my doctoral research. They knocked on my professor’s office door.
As soon as it opened, my father pressed forward impatiently. “Where is Jason?”
My professor looked surprised to see them. He lifted his head from behind a stack of papers and said, “I don’t know.”
My mother’s tone sharpened. “That’s impossible. You’re his professor. How can you not know where he is? Isn’t he your responsibility?”
Carson had come along too, but he looked completely uninterested. He lounged on the office couch, fiddling with his phone.
Then, without looking up, he chimed in, “Maybe he ran off because he couldn’t graduate. I’ve heard students pull that trick- disappearing to pressure their professors.”
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