Eight years of struggle—and at last, we had the blissful freedom of buying anything without checking the price tag!
We returned home with multiple carloads of shopping bags, dressed like two spoiled heirs from some old-money dynasty.
Every time Felix threw a sour comment about our "wasteful spending," I'd clap back with something sharp enough to slice his ego in half.
When he couldn't win with words, he started playing dirty.
On day one, he pretended to be delicate and "accidentally" dropped a flower vase from the second floor, aiming for us. Noah caught it with one hand, not even blinking.
On the second day, at dinner, he "slipped" and sent a pot of boiling soup flying toward me. Noah flicked it back with the spoon—and it scalded Felix's hand instead.
On the third day, Felix hid his diamond watch under our pillows, then brought the whole family to "catch the thieves." Too bad we pulled up the surveillance footage showing him sneaking into our room.
Cornered, he burst into fake tears and mumbled that it was "just a surprise gift gone wrong."
After that humiliation, he kept his head down for a while. But we both knew that silence meant only one thing—he was plotting.
And sure enough, a month later, during the elite academy's class assembly, he struck.
With red eyes and a trembling voice, Felix stood before everyone and said, "These are my parents' newly adopted sons from the orphanage. Please take care of them."
Just like that, he outed us as the adopted ones in front of the entire class.
The room erupted in whispers.
"What? The Watson family just adopts kids on a whim?"
"Poor Felix... imagine having to share everything with strangers."
I smiled sweetly and told my brother, "Show them the paternity test."
Then, in my most pleasant tone, I said, "Funny how our dear little brother talks like he's the victim. You've lived in someone else's nest for eight years, and you're still putting on an act?"
"You're an adopted son too, remember? Don't pretend you're royalty."
I turned to the class and continued, "Hi, everyone. I'm Noah's brother—the real heir of the Watson family. Like Felix said, I'm also adopted. But the Watsons didn't adopt me for charity. They just wanted someone to protect their true son from certain people just like today."
The classroom went dead silent. Then the tide turned.
"Wait, so he's the fake one?"
"Man, he's been pretending all along!"
Laughter rippled through the room, sharp as slaps. Felix's face drained of color; he nearly burst into tears on the spot.
From that day on, he became the school's running joke—the pretentious fake prince.
To save face, he threw himself into piano lessons and traditional dance, trying to look elegant and superior.
I, on the other hand, joined a comedy and stand-up club. My brother took up martial arts and tai chi.
In the following years, Felix's delusion of overshadowing us didn't happen.
During school performances, his delicate recitals never stood a chance against my stand-up comedy or Noah's breaking bricks with his chest that left audiences in awe.
On campus, I have gained a large number of fans with my sharp tongue and humor, and Noah also helped everyone a lot with their martial arts.
Bit by bit, the school changed. With our presence, bullying disappeared, fights dwindled, and laughter filled the halls.
Two once-troublesome brats had somehow grown into two well-loved, grounded young men.
The Watsons adored us more than ever. They even held a press conference to officially introduce us to the public.
Not long after, I overheard the couple's late-night talk.
"It's time to prepare some shares for Noah's coming-of-age ceremony. After all, he's our biological son."
"The Medina family's been pushing hard in the market lately. A marriage alliance would stabilize things. Luckily, their daughter doesn't seem opposed to meeting him. Let's see which of the boys' fate favors..."
In the dark hallway, Felix's fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white.
