The Abandoned Heir

The day before the shareholders' meeting, a speeding car hit me with such force that both of my legs snapped.

My parents were frantic—at least, that's what it looked like on the surface—and flew in over a dozen specialists from abroad. But, despite all the effort, the conclusion remained the same. I might never walk again and would be bound to a wheelchair for the rest of my life.

Late at night, I maneuvered myself toward the window, wanting for fresh air. But just as I reached it, hushed voices from the adjacent room caught my attention. My parents. And a lawyer.

"Mr. Peter, are you really not considering surgery for your son? If we delay any longer, Mr. Owen will never walk again."

The lawyer's voice was calm but carried an undertone of disbelief. My fingers tightened against the cold window frame.

"He is your biological son. Even if you want to hand the company over to Mr. Ethan, you didn't have to go so far as to stage the accident, did you?"

My breathing hitched. A chill ran down my spine.

"If Owen isn't crippled, Ethan won't be able to secure full control of the company," my father responded, his voice devoid of hesitation. "Owen has only recently been brought home—how can we entrust the company to someone without proper training?"

My mother didn't say a word.

"Once Ethan takes over, Owen will be well cared for. Since he has lost his legs, he might as well just stay home. We won't mistreat him."

A bitter taste filled my mouth. The accident—I had clung to the hope that it was just a cruel twist of fate. But no. My parents had orchestrated it. The people who should have been my protectors had planned everything, down to the shattered bones in my legs.

A warm and loving family? A prestigious household? What a joke. This was nothing but a gilded prison.

——

Inside the study, I saw my father flipping through the equity transfer agreement, his expression one of satisfaction.

"Ethan is a good kid. We raised him as our heir from the very beginning. I can rest assured handing the company over to him. Let's proceed as planned."

"That driver didn't spill anything, did he?" my father added. "As per our agreement, transfer three hundred grand to his family and help them relocate to another city. Make sure Owen doesn't find out."

My mother hesitated, her eyes red-rimmed, her voice trembling. "Peter, Owen is our real son. We already made a mistake by leaving him in an orphanage fifteen years ago. Now that we've finally brought him home, must you cripple him too?"

My father waved his hand impatiently, his brows furrowing in frustration.

"If he's not crippled, do you expect me to let him attend the shareholders' meeting and contend for chairmanship?" His voice was sharp, laced with irritation. "You know how ruthless everyone in the Griffith Family is. If Owen enters the company, he'll be utterly destroyed!"