Chapter 1

My father had just been buried when the woman who abandoned us returned, insisting her new children should inherit everything he left behind.

She tore my mourning clothes, grabbed my hair, and ordered me to hand over the house my father built with his life.

But when she tried to force me to call her “Mom,” I pulled out my knife. That was the last time she laid a hand on me.

The day after my dad died, my mother—gone for more than twenty years—walked in with the children she’d had with another man, ready to fight over his estate.

“They’re my kids too. Whatever you have, they should have it as well.”

Still in mourning, my eyes swollen from crying, I couldn’t stop a hollow laugh from slipping out.

“He’s dead! What good is crying? Get up and count how much money that dead old man left behind!”

I was collapsed on the funeral hall floor, my grief twisting into dizziness. My father was gone, and I had no one left in this world.

And yet Vivian Gates—the woman who vanished when I was three—was yanking at my mourning clothes, trying to drag me upright.

“No manners at all! It’s your first time meeting your brother and sister, and this is how you act? Crying like some useless thing!”

I kept my head down, forcing down the fury burning through my chest. My father worked himself to death to raise me. I wouldn’t let anyone disturb his peace now.

When I didn’t answer, Vivian grew even more irritated.

She grabbed a fistful of my hair, hauled me to my feet, and shoved me toward a man and a woman.

“This is Brandon Cooper and Kendra Cooper—your brother and sister.”

“Your dad’s dead now. We need a man around here. Brandon needs to get familiar with the place. From today on, this will be his home.”

“And stop pretending to cry. Let’s get to dividing the estate. Legally, I get half, and the other half gets split among the four of you.”

“I can see this house was just renovated. I’ll decide—this house goes to Brandon. Don’t worry, he won’t throw you out. You can keep a room and visit during holidays.”

Her voice grew more triumphant with every word.

I lifted my head and looked at the pair before me—eyes roaming greedily over the house like wolves staring at fresh meat. Their gaze alone made me nauseous.

“Let go,” I said—the first words I’d said to Vivian in more than twenty years.

She froze, then smacked me on the back.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?”

I looked up at her and smiled.

Pleased, she lifted her chin smugly.

“That’s better. You’ve always needed a good beating to act right—”

Before she finished, I pulled out my pocket knife and slashed her hand.

“AHHHHH!”

Vivian screamed, releasing my hair as blood splattered across the courtyard floor.

Dad, look. No one will bully me again.