Chapter 1

The silent war for the inheritance had begun. My parents had handed me and the

“impostor son” each a startup, setting a three-year deadline. Whoever turned

the biggest profit would take over the family empire.

I drove myself into the ground to prove my worth. It wasn't just about the

fortune; I was desperate for a single, approving glance from my parents.

I slammed back glass after glass of hard liquor at business dinners until a

bleeding ulcer landed me in the ER. Countless nights bled into dawn as I hunched

over proposals, my office becoming my only home. The pride I once had? I

swallowed it, learning to suck up, to read the room, to play the game and kiss

the right asses.

Just as my company’s profits were skyrocketing and victory was within my grasp,

the woman who swore she loved me casually handed a game-changing contract to the

impostor.

He won without lifting a finger.

If they were all going to play this dirty, then so was I. The gloves were coming

off.

1

They threw a victory party for him on my birthday. Because I didn't show, my

parents took turns calling to tear me apart.

“Asher beat you, and now you can’t even show your face at his party? What will

people think of us? If you were such a sore loser, you should never have agreed

to the bet in the first place. You’re a disgrace.”

“You have thirty minutes. If you’re not here, don’t ever bother coming back.

We’ll consider ourselves son-less.”

To legitimize Asher Blackwood’s claim to the family fortune, my parents had

invited every big name in town to witness his coronation. The three-year wager

between the real and fake Blackwood heirs was common knowledge in our circle.

Some had even placed private bets on who would come out on top.

For three years, they’d watched me grind, they’d seen my results. They bet on me

to win. So when the news of my loss broke, they were stunned. Just a week

before, my company’s profits had dwarfed Asher’s. Who could have guessed that my

own girlfriend would hand him the win on a silver platter?

When I first took over the startup, I knew nothing. My girlfriend, Genevieve,

was already running her family’s corporation. I’d asked her for a little

guidance.

“You need to do this on your own, Noah,” she’d said. “Stop looking for

shortcuts.”

With that one sentence, she’d shut down any hope of help from her. And yet, the

same person who told me not to take shortcuts had just opened the floodgates for

someone else at the most critical moment.

I could handle losing. But I couldn’t stomach the betrayal.

Faced with my parents’ fury, I answered calmly, “It’s my birthday. Some friends

and I are out on the boat. I can’t make it back.”

Silence on the other end of the line. Clearly, they’d forgotten.

Then, Asher’s voice, thick with feigned tears, drifted through the phone. “Does

Noah still not want to come? Does he hate me for winning the bet? If I’d known,

I would have just lost. I don’t want our family to fight.”

Whatever guilt my parents might have felt vanished in an instant. My mother's

voice turned sharp with irritation. “You knew today was the day Asher inherited

the company, and you chose to go screwing around with your good-for-nothing

friends. You’re doing this on purpose. Fine. Stay out for all we care.”

She hung up.

The old me would have dropped everything, rushed to their side, and desperately

tried to explain. But now? I felt nothing. The only thing on my mind was

catching more squid. My best friend loved fresh-caught calamari, and I intended

to deliver.

The day was a success. My friend and I feasted on our catch, even saw a pod of

dolphins break the surface. We didn't head home until nine, spirits high.

But a few unwelcome guests were waiting for me at my door. My father was the

first to charge, his hand raised to strike me.

My friend, Rick, was quicker. He yanked me back. I dodged the slap but lost my

footing, tumbling to the ground. Rick winced, offering a hand to pull me up.

My father, trembling with rage, roared, “If you had a problem, you could have

come to me! Why did you have to call your grandmother and tattle on us? She’s

been ill, recovering overseas for years. We never trouble her with anything! But

today, she called, screamed at all of us, and now she wants to kick Asher out of

the family. What did you say to her to make her that furious?”

Asher collapsed to his knees before me, sobbing. “I don’t want the inheritance

anymore! You can have it. Just say I lost the bet. Please, just don’t make them

send me away. I only want to be with Mom and Dad. They’re all I have left…”

I took a step back, my face a cold mask. “Don’t try that crap with me. I didn’t

do anything.”

My father couldn’t stand the sight of Asher kneeling. He rushed to help him up,

his fury at me deepening. “You do it and then deny it? Don’t think your

grandmother’s support means you can break our deal. We agreed, whoever wins,

inherits. You lost because you weren’t good enough. What right do you have to

steal this from Asher?”

In that moment, I finally understood what it felt like to be truly unloved. I

said nothing. Instead, I pulled out my phone and played a recording.

The voices were clear. “I never knew Miss Devereaux had such feelings for Asher.

It’s a good thing she stepped in. Otherwise, I would have had to arrange

something behind the scenes. That boy, Asher, is too simple-minded. Three years,

and he still couldn’t get that company off the ground. Not like him. He's got a

calculating mind. If he took over, I doubt our retirement would be very

peaceful.” It was my father’s voice.

My mother paused, then said, “I didn’t tell you, dear. When Miss Devereaux

visited last time, I let it slip that if Asher didn’t win, we’d have to marry

him off to secure his future. I was just giving her a little push. I didn’t

expect her to act so decisively. It seems her feelings for Asher are quite

serious.”

“Well, Miss Devereaux is a brilliant woman. Asher would do well with her. I just

worry that Noah will throw a fit.”

“Let him. As long as it doesn’t affect Asher’s happiness, he can do whatever he

wants.”

The recording ended. The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating.

I looked at them, my mind flashing back a month ago. My company’s profits were

soaring, victory a sure thing. Then an employee burst in, telling me Asher’s

company had just landed a massive partnership. The partner was Genevieve

Devereaux.

Blood roared in my ears. I called her immediately. She didn’t answer.

Our bet had a clause: neither Asher nor I could receive any help or resources

from the Blackwood family. But Asher, knowing Genevieve’s influence, had

insisted on an addendum: Genevieve was also forbidden from helping me. My

parents, in the name of “fairness,” had agreed without even asking me.

The game had been rigged from the start. Asher had grown up in the Blackwood

mansion, receiving the best education, groomed to manage a corporation. I had

learned nothing. But to prove myself, I gritted my teeth and accepted.

I had poured ten times the effort into it, only to lose to a backroom deal. The

injustice was a bitter pill. I had driven to the family home that day, demanding

an explanation. I found them in the garden, discussing this very thing. I

stopped and listened, and the more I heard, the colder I grew.

They never intended for me to be the heir. Even without Genevieve, they would

have found another way to ensure Asher won. I didn't storm in and confront them.

I just recorded their conversation. Driving away from the house, tears streamed

down my face, my heart constricting until I could barely breathe.

Later, Genevieve called. She claimed the partnership was a decision made by her

marketing department after extensive research. It wasn't a personal favor, she

said. I shouldn't overthink it. I didn’t cry or scream. I just said, “Okay, I

understand,” and hung up. Some truths don’t need to be spoken aloud.

“When… when did you record that? You were spying on us? You’re a monster.” My

father’s eyes darted away, but he didn’t miss the chance to shift the blame.

My mother joined in, her voice dripping with condemnation. “So you sent this to

your grandmother? No wonder your father said you were cunning. You’re

terrifying, stabbing us in the back like this. How could we ever trust you with

the family business?”

Seeing no remorse, not an ounce of regret, I forwarded the recording to my

grandmother’s assistant. “I don’t have her number,” I said flatly. “You made

sure of that from the beginning, telling me she was too ill to be bothered with

matters here. A family friend gave me this contact, said it was a way to reach

her. This is the first time I’ve ever sent a message.”

Since returning to the Blackwood family, I had only seen my grandmother once, on

a video call. I had no idea how she even found out about this ridiculous bet.

My father’s tone suddenly softened. “Well, if you didn’t tell her, there’s no

need to. This is a family matter, we’ll handle it ourselves. Your grandmother

put a stop to the party tonight, so we’ll just… we’ll reconsider who is the most

suitable heir.”

Hearing his phony, placating words, I felt a wave of revulsion so strong it made

me sick. My eyes, cold as ice, locked onto his. “You are… disgusting.”

He looked utterly shocked. “What did you just say?”