The Fake Son's Victory
My parents had always played favorites.
On my birthday, the house was completely empty.
Meanwhile, my older brother, Howard Moore, posted a nine-photo grid on social media, showing off a huge birthday cake. In every picture, Mom and Dad were gathered around him, smiling like they couldn’t be prouder.
I called them.
Laughter poured through the phone from the other end. Still, I gathered every bit of courage I had and asked softly, “Why didn’t I even get a happy birthday?”
The line went silent for a second.
Then Mom’s bright, smiling voice came through.
“Because Howard is handsome. Taking him out makes us look good. But you? Those hooded eyes and that bulbous nose. Honestly, if we didn’t feel sorry for you, we would’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago.”
Howard took the phone from her and said gently, “You know you’re adopted, right? Did you really think you were one of us?”
I stood there for a long time, too stunned to move.
After that, I stopped talking.
But deep down, I still craved the love of my biological parents. So I secretly made a post online, looking for my biological family.
I didn’t expect Howard to find it.
He took a screenshot and sent it to the school’s anonymous gossip account.
“The fake Moore kid is looking for his parents. Anyone lose an ugly little kid?”
I cried for a long time.
Then late that night, I walked past their bedroom door, which had been left slightly open.
Howard’s laughter floated out, clear and bright.
“He actually believed it! This is hilarious! Let’s hire someone to pretend to be his parents. I can’t wait to see him on his knees, begging us.”
Dad took a sip of his tea.
“Do whatever you want.”
Mom added, “Just don’t go too far.”
Outside the door, my fingers slowly loosened around the doorknob.