"How did we end up with a piece of trash like you! Treating Francis like that! Are you even human?!"
"You've got it all wrong!"
I couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm not even part of your family! I just happen to look like your real son!
"I have zero interest in Bernice Butler. This whole thing was staged by Francis!"
Bernice let out a cold laugh.
"You think saying all that will make me let you off the hook?
"My husband is Francis. No matter what he becomes, he's still my husband.
"You want to use these disgusting tricks to ruin him? Then I'll ruin you first.
"Grab him! Lock him in the freezer!"
My eyes went wide.
"What?"
Her men seized me by the arms and dragged me toward the vehicle.
I thrashed wildly.
"I'm not Abraham! You can run a paternity test! Let go of me! Let go!"
Right then, it hit me.
My two-million-dollar monthly salary, weighed against what I had to endure every single day?
It was nothing.
The freezer was fifteen degrees below zero.
I was wearing nothing but a thin layer of clothes. The second they threw me in, my whole body seized with a violent shiver.
The lock clicked shut from the outside. I screamed until my throat was raw.
"I'm not Abraham! You've got the wrong person!"
"Still pretending?"
Bernice's voice filtered through the door.
"Every Harding's fingerprint is registered on that keypad lock. Keep up the act, and you can freeze to death in there for all I care."
Her footsteps faded.
Panic clawed at my chest.
"Bernice?
"Bernice!
"Bernice, I'm not Abraham! I will actually die in here!"
But there was nothing. Not a sound.
I curled into a corner, helpless.
All I could do was breathe into my hands for warmth.
But even that feeble heat wasn't enough.
My body temperature started dropping.
Everything went hazy. Then, through the fog, I heard the electronic chime of the lock disengaging.
I crawled toward the door.
It opened.
But on the other side, there was no one.
I stumbled into the living room on legs that barely worked.
Everyone was gathered around Francis, comforting him, fussing over him.
Bernice looked frantic with worry.
"Is that bastard Abraham still putting on his little act in the freezer? Drag him out here! Make him get on his knees and apologize to Francis!"
"No need. I'm right here."
She froze.
Then her lips curled into a sneer.
"Weren't you just insisting you're not Abraham?
"So what happened? You got yourself out just fine, didn't you?"
I looked around the room.
Every member of the Harding family was here.
Whoever had unlocked that door for me, I had no clue.
When I didn't respond, Roger and Wanda erupted.
"Francis has no blood relation to us. Of course he feels insecure. Giving him a little extra consideration is the least we can do.
"You ARE our son. Nothing changes that! So why do you have to compete with him? Fight him for everything? Do you even consider yourself part of this family?!"
Wanda delivered her ultimatum.
"Get on your knees and apologize. Otherwise, from this day forward, we don't have a son."
"Fine!"
I raised my voice.
"I'll kneel. I'll even bow my head to the floor!
"But since you're so insistent that I'm your son...
"The company dividends. Shouldn't I be getting my share?"
They both went still.
I smiled, and there was nothing warm about it.
"Don't think I don't know. Francis pulls in over a hundred million in dividends every year.
"You want to call me your son? Great."
I held out my hand.
"I'm not even asking for much. Fifty million.
"Hand it over, and I'll get on my knees right now."
"You—!"
Wanda shot to her feet.
I cut her off before she could say another word.
"What? You want me to play the dutiful son, but I don't see a single dollar? Meanwhile, every last cent of those dividends goes to someone who isn't even related to you by blood? And you have the nerve to lecture me about family?"
