Chapter 1
As I fought a stray dog for a loaf of moldy bread, distinguished guests arrived at the orphanage.
They'd come to find the long-lost heir of a wealthy family. After confirming their choice, they donated $100 million to the orphanage and handed out chocolates to every child.
My mouth watered as I reached for a box, but glowing messages flashed before my eyes.
[Lawrence, show your locket! They're here to bring you home!]
[Don't let that impostor steal your birthright. It's yours!]
They revealed the truth: the elegant couple were my biological parents, and the poised girl beside them was my fiancée.
Yet I clutched my chocolate and ran, aware of their true purpose: they'd come here just for the fake heir.
Even if I revealed my locket, they'd not pay me any attention.
Chapter 1
...
Their gazes swept over my emaciated frame and tattered clothes.
Flavia Grady's brow creased. Without a word, she reached into a box and offered me another chocolate.
A sharp voice interrupted, "One per person. That's the rule."
Ambrose Grady came up, snatching the extra chocolate from my grasp. His tone was icy, his words deliberate. "Taking two isn't fair to the other children, is it?"
Flavia glanced at him, her fleeting hesitation fading into indifference. The words she seemed to hold back dwindled to a single, curt directive. "Take your share and go."
I clutched my chocolate, my chest tightening as if struck by a heavy blow.
A bitter ache surged within me. I'd known this outcome was inevitable. Yet receiving their cold dismissal and seeing my faint hope snuffed out still broke my heart.
My eyes stung with unshed tears, but the messages kept coming.
[Lawrence, call them Mom and Dad! They're here to take you home!]
[You're their true son, and that girl is your fiancée.]
[Show the locket. They'll recognize you!]
[Hurry, or they'll take the fraud, and you'll lose everything!]
I tuned them out, turning away to peel open the chocolate wrapper. I broke off a piece and stuffed it into my mouth.
It should have been rich and sweet, but it melted into a tasteless, waxy lump, choking my throat with bitterness.
The messages persisted, but I ignored them. They didn't know I was reborn.
From the moment my parents gazed warmly at Erik Sanders and regarded me with icy disdain, I understood that I wasn't the only one given a second chance.
Their actions spoke volumes. They knew Erik was a fake, but they chose to embrace the deception.
As I headed toward the dormitory, a crisp voice halted me. "Hold it there."
I turned to face Catherine Murphy, my supposed fiancée. Her eyes locked onto my chest. "That locket around your neck is the Grady family's heirloom, isn't it?"
...
She approached, undeterred by my recoil, and tugged the locket from beneath my ragged collar.
Chapter 2
Catherine stroked the locket, a subtle smile playing on her lips.
For a moment, I recalled our first meeting in my past life. Her fingers had traced the locket with the same gentle touch.
[Yes! Catherine recognizes the locket.]
[The impostor's tricks won't work now.]
[Catherine, take your fiancé to his parents. You're meant to be together.]
The messages sparked a fragile hope in my heart, but reality shattered it swiftly. Her hand lashed out, her slap stinging my cheek. "You shameless thief, stealing the Grady family's treasures? If I didn't catch you, would you have used it to deceive us?"
She turned to Erik, her voice softening as she handed him the locket. "Be careful with your belongings, Erik. Don't let filth like him touch them."
Her sudden shift from venom to warmth was like ice water dousing me from head to toe.
The messages exploded in outrage.
[Catherine, what are you saying? That locket belongs to Lawrence!]
[You can't even recognize your true fiancé? Donate your eyes!]
I fought back my tears, but my vision still blurred.
The messages cursed Catherine's blindness, vowing she'd regret her choice. But I knew better. She wasn't blind at all. Her clarity fueled her betrayal.
In my past life, when the Gradys came to the orphanage, I stood among the hopeful children, each yearning to be chosen.
The director pushed Erik forward, and I watched with envy as my parents caressed his hair with affection and Catherine shyly took his hand.
Prompted by the messages, I gathered my courage, revealed my locket, and exposed the director's scheme to pass Erik off as me.
When the truth came to light, my parents enveloped me in a tearful embrace, their eyes tracing my scars with anguish.
They glared at the director and Erik, then turned to me with warm smiles. "Sweetheart, you're safe now. No one will hurt you again."
At home, their love felt boundless, as though they'd give me the whole world. Their warmth felt so close, like I could reach out and touch it.
Flavia would blow gently on my soup to cool it before feeding me. Ambrose, who was usually stern, would frame my childish drawings and display them proudly in his study.
Catherine's care was woven into every detail. When nightmares plagued me, she'd spend sleepless nights crafting a soothing sachet. When I fell ill with a fever, she would stay by my hospital bed for days, dozing off with a damp cloth still clutched in her hand.
At eighteen, I inherited the family empire. At the bash, Catherine placed an ancestral pendant around my neck. "Even without our arranged betrothal and even if you weren't a Grady, I'd choose you and only you."
But those cherished memories eventually crumbled into dust.
Chapter 3
The night before our engagement, Catherine arrived at the banquet with Erik.
In front of the elders, she flung the engagement ring at my feet. "My engagement to Lawrence is null. This marriage was your decision, not mine. Why should I honor it?"
Furious, my parents slapped her and ordered bodyguards to drag Erik out, vowing to banish him from the city.
Yet within a month, they brought him back, calling him pitiable and adopting him as their foster son. They even pressed me to end my engagement with Catherine and seek a new match.
Erik's triumphant smirk mirrored my humiliated grimace. Watching my family and fiancée unconditionally side with him, I couldn't contain my rage.
I punched him and declared that if he stayed, I'd leave.
That night, Erik disappeared, leaving a tear-stained letter claiming he didn't want to burden my parents or Catherine and would end the drama with his death.
My parents severed ties with me. When they passed, their will barred me from their funeral. Catherine married me as promised, but for decades, she never talked to me.
We lived like strangers under one roof, silent and distant. On my deathbed, she finally spoke. "If I could do it over, I'd choose never to have met you."
As she wished, fate granted us a second chance. This time, I resolved not to reconnect with them. Once they left with Erik, we'd never cross paths again.
But Catherine, before departing, chose to humiliate me one final time.
...
I glared at her, my teeth clenched. "You're reunited. Why are you still here? Shouldn't you go?"
Before I could finish, Ambrose's foot slammed into my stomach. I flew back, crumpling to the ground, blood and bile rising in my throat.
"You stole from us! Think that I'll let you off?" he snarled.
Flavia stepped back, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Raised in an orphanage, you're nothing but a feral thief."
I wiped blood from my lips and laughed bitterly. "You're right. I grew up without parents. They died long ago."
My words struck like a blade, their faces reddening with fury. They knew I was their son, and my defiance was an insult they couldn't bear.
"Beat this wretch to death!" Ambrose roared.
Bodyguards swarmed, their fists and boots raining down. My frail body buckled, my vision sparked, and my bones threatened to shatter.
Erik's voice pierced the chaos. "Dad, Mom, spare him! He didn't mean it."
He flung himself at Flavia, tears streaming. "He just wanted a family so badly that he stole my locket."
Chapter 4
Erik pleaded, "We grew up together. He's my only friend here. I can't watch him die. Why not adopt him instead?"
My parents softened. Ambrose said, "Erik, you're truly our child. Kindness runs in your blood."
Casting a scornful glance at me, he continued, "For Erik's sake, I'll spare you this time."
He waved a hand, and the bodyguards hauled my battered body upright. "We need a guard dog at home. Take him."
Panic surged through me. I'd fought to escape this hell. There was no way I'd return to it.
"No, I'm not going with you!" I screamed. "Kill me!"
But my protests were futile. A fist knocked me unconscious, and they stuffed me into the trunk.
...
I woke up in a damp, shadowy basement. The iron door was locked, the lone window boarded shut.
Erik's compassion was a shame, and my fears were confirmed when he ordered me to climb a ladder to fetch an antique vase from a high shelf.
As I stretched for it, he shook the ladder violently. I crashed down, the vase shattering. The shards sliced into my thigh, and blood instantly soaked my pants.
Erik dodged but got a shallow scratch on his hand.
My parents rushed in, frantic over his minor wound, summoning a doctor to bandage it. My leg bled unchecked, but Flavia didn't care.
She slapped me hard. "Useless! We brought you here to serve Erik, and you can't even do that? If he scars, I'll have your arm removed!"
I lay in a pool of blood, ignored, and was dragged back to the basement.
Catherine, hearing of the incident, hurried over. To cheer up Erik, she arranged a spectacular drone light show, three thousand drones painting his face across the night sky.
From the basement window, I watched her gentle smile. Once it had been for me, now for him. She'd forgotten I was her true fiancé.
They held a grand reunion banquet for Erik. As the center of attention, he ascended the stage, flanked by my parents. As a "family member", I was brought along, but leashed like a dog at the entrance, polishing guests' shoes per Erik's orders.
I had been starved for three days, hunger leaving me dizzy. Disobey, and I'd starve longer.
Hours of kneeling ground my knees raw, blood seeping through my thin pants. The pain was excruciating, and I fainted repeatedly, only to be whipped awake by Erik's men.
Midway, my parents and Erik emerged to see off some guests.
Chapter 5
Ambrose frowned at the sight of the bloody welts on my back, and I hoped for a flicker of concern.
Instead, he snapped, "Didn't I say to keep him out of sight? Why is he at the entrance? Hood him. What a disgrace!"
I gave a hollow laugh. They cared only that my Grady-like features might shame them.
Seeing me pale and on the verge of collapse, Flavia waved at a servant. "Take him away and feed him. If he dies here, people will talk."
The servants dragged me to the backyard, forced me to kneel, and tossed a rusty basin of rancid leftovers. Starved, I reached for it, pride cast aside.
"Hold it!" a servant barked, stomping on my hand. "Young Master says you're the guard dog. Eat like one on the ground."
Laughter erupted around me. I closed my eyes, swallowed my humiliation, and licked the sour, spoiled food from the basin, tears mixing with the filth as I choked it down.
With some strength restored, I crept along the wall toward the back gate, searching for an escape, but guards blocked every exit.
Passing the banquet hall, I peered through a door crack. A misstep sent me stumbling inside.
All eyes turned to me, whispers rippling through the crowd. My mind went blank for a moment before my gaze met the guest of honor's.
I instantly recognized Jordan Lynch, a towering figure in the military. As I struggled to stand under the crowd's scrutiny, his deep voice cut through. "Ambrose, is this your boy? Why is he covered in wounds?"
Ambrose faltered, his face flushed with embarrassment.
"It's just a fall, sir," I said, standing tall under Jordan's piercing stare.
His eyes traced the bruises on my neck and trembling legs, his brow furrowing. He stood up, clearing his throat. "Ambrose, this boy is resilient. Send him to me. My unit needs a service soldier, and he is suitable."
The room fell silent. Ambrose's face twisted with discomfort. "General, that's hardly appropriate."
Jordan ignored him, crouching to meet my eyes. "Kid, will you come with me?"
I glanced at his gleaming insignia, then at my parents' sour expressions. This was my only chance to break free from this cage.
"Sir, please take me." I said firmly.