Chapter 2

Mr. Waylon wasn't the moody, controlling, violent monster Mom and Asher had made him out to be in my past life.

In fact, he was incredibly sharp—though definitely proud and strong-willed.

It didn't take long after we moved in for his issues with Mom to surface.

Mom was a total trophy wife—all looks, no substance.

Honestly, her and Dad had been perfect for each other.

Dad had been a trust fund kid with more money than sense.

He'd landed Mom purely with his charm and fat wallet.

When Grandpa and Grandma were alive, they kept everything together.

After they passed, Dad got roped into terrible investments by his so-called "friends."

He gambled away his entire inheritance—everything Grandpa and Grandma left him.

Mom immediately found a new sugar daddy and divorced him.

My study abroad plans were on hold thanks to Mom's meddling.

But with my grades, I was confident I could get into a top local university.

"Asher's here!"

"Ms. Evans, is Mom home?"

"Your mom went shopping, but your sister's upstairs reading."

I heard Asher's footsteps heading toward my room.

He opened my door without knocking.

"Leo, cut the act. Nobody's home—who are you trying to impress with all this studying?" He walked right in and snatched my books.

Asher was supposed to be living with Dad, yet almost every month he'd show up demanding money from Mom, plus jewelry and clothes.

Every time he left, his car would be loaded up.

But the next month, he'd still be wearing ratty clothes.

Dad, now a full-blown gambling addict, had long since pawned all his nice stuff for cash to blow.

In this life, Dad wasn't just a drunk—he was a gambler too.

Mom actually felt sorry for Asher living such a hard life with Dad.

She even talked to Mr. Waylon about letting Asher move in with us.

Mr. Waylon actually agreed, but surprisingly, Dad refused to let Asher go.

After all, he was using Asher to milk Mom for stuff to fund his lifestyle now.

"You've studied yourself stupid. What's the point of all these books? You're not as good-looking as me, and even Mom and Dad don't really like you."

"And this good life you're living? I handed it to you on a silver platter. Enjoy it while it lasts, 'cause it won't."

He started rummaging through my stuff like he owned the place.

He wasn't wrong—this room had been his in my past life.

He searched everywhere.

"You don't even know how to enjoy the good life. What kind of crap is this you've got?"

"All you do is bury your head in these books every day."

I ignored him, letting him throw his little tantrum.

"Is that my sweet Asher I hear?"

I watched coldly as they put on their 'loving mother and son' act.

Mom saw my room was completely trashed.

"What good stuff could you find in her room? Come on, let's go to my room—I just bought tons of clothes and jewelry. Take whatever you want."

With that, she dragged Asher out.

She didn't even look at me, let alone say something like "Are you okay?"

Ms. Evans, the housekeeper, brought up a glass of fresh orange juice.

She came into my room and started tidying up like it was nothing.

"I've never seen such a biased mother."

Whatever. Her good times were about to run out anyway.