Chapter 1

My dad owned a boxing gym. He gave me one rule: If you're right, don't back down.

Then I turned eighteen, and my biological parents—Jonah Gautier and Diana Saun—showed up. Apparently, I was the son they'd lost years ago.

Dad always taught me to remember what people did for me. They gave me life. That had to count for something.

So I grabbed Dad's beat-up canvas duffel and headed to the Gautier estate.

Liam, their adopted son, popped up from the couch with a fake-sweet smile.

"Troy, rough trip?"

I raised the bag. "Nope."

Gary, the butler, showed me to my room. An hour later, I came back downstairs.

Liam clung to my biological mom, Diana Saun, tears streaming down his face, a handprint bright on his cheek.

The second he saw me, he flinched.

"Troy, why'd you hit me?"

Every head snapped my way.

I walked over and lifted my hand.

A sharp whoosh cut through the room. Everyone froze.

My hand stopped inches from his face.

I spread my fingers and held my hand next to the mark on his face.

Ten years in the gym had hardened my fists. Thick calluses covered my knuckles, and my hand was way bigger than the handprint on his cheek.

"Does my hand look anything like that?"

His fingers twitched against his cheek.

"Couldn't even bring yourself to hit that hard? Next time, have someone else do it." I dusted off my hands. "When you're done with the performance, let me know dinner's ready."

Chapter 1

My biological sister, Anya, slowly lowered the cold towel in her hand.

Water dripped onto the marble floor.

She looked down. Anywhere but at Liam.

Mom just stood there, opening and closing her mouth.

Then she rushed after me.

"Dinner's not ready yet. Why don't you go relax in your room?"

Her voice had softened.

Gary caught the look on her face and led me upstairs.

The room at the end of the hall faced north. Thin curtains. Empty closet. No sheets on the mattress.

A water stain stretched from a crack in the ceiling to the baseboard.

On the way up, a maid passed with a tea tray. Gary lowered his voice.

"Liam said this room was quiet. Thought it'd be perfect for you."

I opened my canvas duffel.

Two T-shirts. One pair of jeans. One pair of canvas sneakers.

At the bottom sat a voice recorder.

Dad had slipped it in.

"City people can be sneaky. Stay sharp."

At dinner, the whole family sat around the table.

Jonah took the head, with Diana beside him. Anya sat next to Liam. I got the seat at the far end.

Liam stood and served the soup like he'd done it a hundred times.

He filled a bowl, carried it over, and set it in front of me.

"Try it. Should be easy on your stomach."

I picked up my spoon.

Anya cut in. "Can you eat a little quieter?"

"I haven't even started."

"I'm warning you now. We have rules here." Her eyes dropped to my worn-out T-shirt. "I don't care how you ate back there. In this house, don't embarrass us."

Liam set down his fork. "Anya, Troy just got here. Give him a break."

I looked at him. "So you heard me slurping my soup?"

His smile tightened.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then did you hear anything?"

"...I wasn't paying attention."

"So you weren't paying attention, but still decided I was the problem?" I set down my spoon. "Next time, get the facts before picking a side.

"Assuming I'm guilty isn't being nice. It's setting me up."

The whole table went quiet.

Diana rushed to break the tension.

"The food's getting cold. Let's eat."

But her fork never left her plate. She hadn't taken a bite.

Jonah kept his eyes down, though his fork slowed.

Anya stared at me for two seconds, then looked away. Her knife scraped softly against the plate.

Liam bowed his head, tears shining in his eyes.

I ignored him.

Back in my room, my phone lit up.

Dad: [Troy, eat yet?]

Me: [Yeah.]

That was all I said.

A maid knocked and announced the Sheltons had arrived.

Rory Shelton.

Our families had promised her to the Gautiers' oldest son.

Now that was me.

Her eyes dragged over my old T-shirt, then paused on my canvas sneakers.

"This is how the Gautiers dress you?"

She turned to Diana.

"Mrs. Gautier, my father and I talked. We want to put the engagement on hold."

I leaned back on the couch. "Fine by me."

She paused.

"That's it? You've got nothing to say?"

"You already decided. What's left to say? You came to tell me, not ask me."

"Lose the attitude."

"You're putting our engagement on hold and still want me to be nice? What, should I thank you?"

Her face hardened. She spun around and left, heels snapping against the marble floor.

Liam rushed after her.

The door didn't shut all the way, and his voice carried back inside.

"Rory, don't be mad. Troy's just acting tough."

I poured myself some tea.

Rory hadn't touched hers, so I slid it to the far end of the table.

Anya leaned against the living room doorway, lazily spinning her phone in one hand.

She hadn't gone after Rory.

"You think you're pretty smart, huh?"

I took a sip. "Just say it."

"Rory's the Sheltons' only daughter. Show her some respect.

"You think her family agreed to this because of you? They agreed because you're a Gautier.

"You've been gone eighteen years. Don't come back and wreck everything."

I set down my cup and looked at her. "So let me get this straight. She puts our engagement on hold, and I'm supposed to thank her?"

Her face went cold.

She turned and walked off, her slippers scraping across the marble floor.

That night, I called Dad.

"Troy! How's it going? Anyone giving you trouble?"

"I'm good. I can handle myself."

"Good." He paused. "Just remember—if you're right, don't back down. And if things get too big, I know people."

After we hung up, I slid the voice recorder under my pillow.

Outside, Borevia City was dead quiet.

Chapter 2

The next morning, Liam poured me a glass of milk. He looked like he was working up to something.

"Troy, could you stop training in the house?" He hesitated, all fake concern. "The staff are nervous. They're scared you'll lose control and hurt someone."

"I was practicing my stance. I didn't make a sound."

"I know, but boxing's dangerous."

"Which staff member said that?"

He froze.

"Bring them here. I'll ask." I took a sip of milk. "I believe you. I just want to know who said it."

"I... don't know exactly. Someone mentioned it."

I set down my glass. "No one said anything. You made it up."

His lashes flickered.

"You want everyone here thinking boxers are violent. So maybe I really did leave that handprint on your face. That what you're getting at?"

"I wasn't—"

"You might as well ask, 'Troy, are you gonna hit me someday?'"

He went quiet.

"I won't." I stood. "But keep lying like this, and I can't make any promises."

Anya froze with her teacup halfway to her mouth.

For once, she stayed out of it.

Diana stepped out of the kitchen, still in her apron. She'd heard the last few lines, and the dish towel went still in her hands.

She looked at Liam.

He kept his head down.

Diana didn't go to him.

Before, she always had.

***

That afternoon, I walked past the living room.

Liam stood with his back to the hall, talking on the phone.

"Rory, Troy didn't mean to upset you yesterday...

"He just grew up in a small town. He's not used to people like us. Don't take it personally."

Rory's voice came through the speaker. "He's upset? What's he got to be upset about?"

"Troy grew up outside the family. He just—"

I walked up behind him.

He caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye and instantly ended the call.

I set the voice recorder on the coffee table.

"Go on. I didn't catch the rest."

He stared at the recorder, his face going pale.

"You're recording me?"

"You're defending me, right? So why worry about a recording?"

He had nothing to say.

He turned and rushed upstairs, moving twice as fast as usual.

I slipped the recorder back into my pocket.

Anya stood in the kitchen doorway, holding a full glass of water.

No clue how long she'd been there.

She looked toward the stairs where Liam had disappeared, then at me.

Neither of us said a word.

She carried the untouched water back into the living room.

***

Another day passed.

That evening, Rory showed up again with a shopping bag.

Limited-edition sneakers. For Liam.

"Thanks, Rory." Liam took the bag and lowered his head. "You didn't have to. Troy's still here."

She shoved it into his hands.

"I'm giving Liam a gift. What does that have to do with him?"

I reached under the coffee table, grabbed an apple, and took a bite.

"Nothing. You put our engagement on hold yesterday, and now you're back with gifts. You seem more invested in this family than I am."

Her face tightened.

I took another bite. "You called it off, but you keep coming back. So are we done, or are you just replacing me?"

Her face went from red to white.

She snatched up her purse and stormed out, her heels clicking even faster than before.

Liam took two steps after her, then stopped.

He looked back at me.

The look in his eyes had changed.

Not hurt.

He smiled. "Troy, is the apple good?"

"It's okay."

"Then have a few more." He started upstairs, then looked back over his shoulder. "There's not much in this house you're actually allowed to have."

He turned and walked upstairs.

***

A few days later, Diana came to my room.

Jonah's fiftieth birthday banquet was coming up.

It would also be my official introduction to Borevia's upper class.

A maid brought in a custom-made suit.

Dark gray. Nice fabric.

I tried it on.

Someone had pulled out the stitching along the inside seam and cut the fabric.

You'd never notice unless you looked closely.

But take a few steps, and the seam would rip wide open.

I folded the pants and put them back in the closet.

Footsteps stopped outside my door.

Liam leaned into the room with an innocent smile.

"Troy, does the suit fit?"

"It's fine."

"Good." He smiled wider. "Don't be late in three days."

His footsteps faded down the hall.

Late that night, I went downstairs for water.

The kitchen light was still on.

Two people were inside.

Liam stood with his back to the door. Across from him was the maid I'd passed on the way to my room that first day.

"On the day of the banquet, put it under his pillow. Once they find it, don't say anything. Just keep your head down."

She hesitated.

"Sir... what if they find out?"

"They won't." Liam turned his phone toward her. "And even if they do, who do you think Dad'll believe? Me or you?

"Do this, and you'll get enough to cover your son's tuition for two years.

"Say no, and I'll replace you tomorrow."

The maid stayed silent.

I backed away without a sound.

The stairwell was dark.

The voice recorder sat in my pajama pocket.

Its tiny red light blinked in the dark.

I went back to my room without the water.

I called Dad.

"Dad, do you know anyone reliable in Borevia—"

"I do." He cut me off. "One of my old trainees. Dean. He runs Stonewall Security."

"They handle security for most of the big events in the city. I'll have him add you."

"Old trainee?"

"The guy who lived at our gym for five years. He used to hold you when you were a baby." He paused. "Troy... did something happen?"

"Not yet. But it will."

"Save his number. Use it or don't. Your call. But people need to know you're not alone."

"Oh, and Jaxon's daughter is in Borevia too. You two should meet sometime."

A friend request popped up a few seconds later.

[Dean Winston—Stonewall Security]

Chapter 3

Jonah's fiftieth birthday party filled the Gautier estate's main hall.

I left the new suit pants in the closet.

Instead, I pulled a white shirt and my old dress pants from the canvas duffel, then headed downstairs.

The place was packed.

Liam stood beside Jonah in a custom navy suit, greeting guests like he owned the room. A few polished lines had several socialites laughing.

The second he saw me on the stairs, he came over with a glass of champagne.

His eyes dragged over me.

"Troy, didn't the family have a suit made for you?" He spoke just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Why are you wearing that?

"Not used to nice clothes? Or just don't know how to wear them?"

Two women nearby traded a look.

Anya pushed through the crowd.

Her eyes dropped to my old shirt, and her face tightened.

"Where's your new suit? The maid said it was delivered."

"It didn't fit."

"Didn't fit? It was custom-made." She stared at me. "Do you even know what today is? It's Dad's fiftieth birthday, and you're standing here dressed like that with everyone watching."

Liam sighed beside her.

"Anya, let it go. Troy's probably just not used to events like this—"

I turned and went upstairs.

When I came back, I had the suit pants in my hand.

I shook them open in front of everyone.

Under the chandelier, the inside seam had been neatly ripped apart.

The tear ran straight up from the hem.

I hooked my fingers into the tear and pulled it open nearly six inches.

"Custom-made." I tossed the pants onto the coffee table. "So who did this?"

Anya stared at the rip.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Liam's face tightened for half a second.

"Troy, maybe—"

"Maybe I ripped them myself?" I looked at him. "I ruined a brand-new suit just so I could show up in old pants? You think I'm crazy?"

The room went dead quiet.

Guests stood frozen, drinks in hand, staring at the torn pants on the coffee table.

The rip faced up for everyone to see.

Only then did Jonah turn around.

He looked at the pants. Then at me.

Finally, he motioned to Gary.

"Get rid of those."

Then he pulled me aside and lowered his voice.

"Don't make a scene today. Stay in a corner for now. After we cut the cake, I'll send someone for you."

He went right back to chatting with a real estate developer.

Liam followed, wineglass in hand.

No one looked at the pants again.

I found a quiet corner and stayed there.

A middle-aged man with a glass of red wine clapped Jonah on the shoulder.

"Jonah, you've got a fine son."

He pointed at Liam.

Jonah's grip tightened around his wineglass.

He didn't correct him.

I slowly turned my teacup between my fingers.

Halfway through the party, a maid rushed into the hall and whispered in Diana's ear.

Her face changed.

"The watch," the maid said, her voice shaking. "Mr. Gautier's antique watch—the one he gave Liam for his eighteenth birthday. It's missing."

Liam shot to his feet, his face going pale.

"That's impossible. I saw it this morning."

Gary searched the house with a few staff members.

They found the watch under my pillow.

He set it on the coffee table.

Every eye in the room swung to me.

Just like my first day.

Liam stood beside Diana, his voice shaky. "Mom, Troy couldn't have stolen it. He was probably just curious. Maybe he only wanted to look at it."

Anya frowned. "We're not exactly short on valuables. Couldn't you at least ask before taking it?"

Jonah said nothing.

Diana looked like she wanted to speak, but no words came out.

Rory stood among the guests with a glass of red wine.

She looked at the watch.

Then at me.

She turned to the woman beside her and smiled. "What did I tell you?"

I smiled back.

Then I set the voice recorder on the coffee table and hit play.