"Ugh…"
A sharp pain to his forehead snapped Ken back to reality — not the marble alcove of the basement, but the carved copper edge of a cabinet in the foyer of a Manhattan Upper East Side mansion. He touched his forehead; his fingers came away with just a faint red mark. No blood, no stabbing agony of broken bones.
Sunlight spilled across the Persian rug on the floor — the same one Elaine had bought at Sotheby's last year for $200,000. On the wall, the hanging clock — a Metropolitan Museum collab — read 3:10 p.m. The date below: September 15, 2022.
Like thunder in his mind.
This was the exact day he had been "found" at twenty, stepping into this house for the first time.
He looked down at his hands — young hands, knuckles defined, faint callus at the base of his thumb from hauling luggage. He was wearing a gray hoodie he'd bought with his Boston University scholarship. At his feet was his only suitcase, packed with all he owned: a few dog-eared music theory books, business notes, sketchpads, and an old photo of his grandfather (the orphanage director had said it was clutched in his hand the day he was abandoned).
I… came back? Ken's heart hammered, but he forced his emotions down. He'd never begged for rebirth, but since Heaven gave him the chance, he wasn't about to repeat the same mistakes. At twenty, he already had a foundation in music, business, and design. He hadn't yet sacrificed himself for this family — this was the perfect point to cut his losses.
He gripped the suitcase handle tight, nails digging into his palm. The secret of his rebirth had to stay hidden. He would wait for them to show their greed, then reclaim what was his, one piece at a time, before disappearing from their world completely.
"Bro! You're finally here!"
That sickly sweet voice rang from the side. Ken turned and saw 17-year-old Liam striding over with a Gucci-logo suitcase in hand. Richard had sent the driver all the way to Miami's duty-free shop to buy it as a "welcome gift."
Ken's "welcome gift" had been a cold cup of coffee Elaine handed him at the door.
Liam was dressed in a Ralph Lauren bear sweater Elaine had bought just last week, his hair neatly combed, bangs falling across half his forehead like a fairytale prince. But Ken knew too well what lurked beneath that face — in his previous life, on this very day, Liam had hidden Elaine's pearl necklace in his suitcase. By the time he found it, Richard was already waving the necklace in his face, accusing him of "stealing the moment you came home." He'd been forced to kneel in the foyer all night.
Not this time. Let's see how you play it. Ken smothered the ice in his eyes, deliberately wearing the awkward unease of a boy "new to his family" — just like last time, so Liam would think he was still the same gullible brother, easy to manipulate.
Liam's eyes flickered with calculation. He let his steps wobble "accidentally," and the suitcase tilted with a loud thunk, about to topple onto the rug. He squatted fast, blue eyes filling with tears. His voice broke like a child about to cry:
"Oh no! My suitcase… Bro, can you help me? I'm too weak, I can't lift it."
A slicker setup than last time — if Ken helped, Liam would cry he'd been pushed; if Ken didn't, he'd whine that his brother "didn't care enough to help."
Ken sneered inside. Same old trick, zero new skill.
Instead of panicking, he stepped back. His right hand darted into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his secondhand iPhone — bought with scholarship money. It still had lawyer White's number saved, the same lawyer his grandfather had entrusted years ago.
He opened the camera and hit record, locking the frame on Liam's face. Even the fake tear — only a faint spot on his sweater — was caught in crisp detail.
"Bro, why won't you help me?" Liam looked up, eyes shimmering, voice dripping with hurt. "Is it because I did something wrong? You don't like me?"
Before he could finish, Ken's calm, cutting voice sliced in:
"Your suitcase has spinner wheels. It weighs under ten pounds. And just now, your hand was clearly pushing toward me. How about we replay this for Lawyer White — let him decide if 'the Richard family's adopted son tried to frame his brother the minute he came home.'"
Liam froze. The crocodile tears dried instantly. His eyes darted to the phone, panic flashing — he knew White, the lawyer who held Grandpa's will, the one even Richard couldn't strong-arm.
"I… I didn't!" Liam scrambled up, rubbing his knee to fake a stumble. "Bro, how can you say that? I was just… just nervous seeing you again."
"Nervous enough to push me?" Ken arched a brow and pointed at Liam's boots — brand-new North Face hikers with deep treads. "You're wearing anti-slip boots on a rug. Solid as stone. How exactly did you 'lose balance'? And that suitcase? It fell straight toward me. Want me to play the video back for you?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried straight to Elaine, who had just stepped out of the living room. She still had a La Mer caviar mask drying on her face, Jimmy Choos clicking on the marble.
She had expected to see Ken bullying Liam. But the sight of the phone in his hand — and Liam's panic — made her pause. She knew Liam's petty tricks too well. She just hadn't expected her long-lost son to be bold enough to record proof.
Still, bias was etched into her bones. She ripped the mask off and snapped, "Ken, you just got home, and you're picking fights with your little brother? Liam's only seventeen, what does he know? Over a suitcase, really? You had to start recording him?"
Really? Ken scoffed silently. Aloud, he raised the phone. "Mom, when I was three, you lost me in Disney — because I 'didn't know better'? And now Liam tries to set me up, and you say he 'doesn't know better'? What, the only time you're satisfied is when it's me getting hurt?"
The words hit Elaine like a hammer. Her face darkened, but she tried to salvage it. "That's all in the past. Why bring it up now? Liam didn't mean it—"
"Didn't mean it?" Ken cut in coldly. "Let White decide. His office is right on Wall Street, 40th floor. I could email him the footage right now — ask if Grandpa's trust fund should be activated early."
At the words trust fund, Elaine blanched. She'd always planned to keep that money for Liam. If White found out Ken was mistreated, he might execute the will immediately.
Her voice softened instantly. "Alright, alright. It's Mom's fault. I'll apologize on Liam's behalf… Liam, say sorry to your brother."
Liam's eyes went wide. "Mom! But he—"
"Say it!" Elaine's tone cracked sharp, her fingers strangling the silk scarf in her hand. She couldn't risk it, not with Richard still at a Wall Street meeting.
Liam bit his lip and glared, but he muttered, barely audible: "Sorry, bro…"
"Didn't hear you." Ken turned, pretending to sort his books. "And take that fake tear dropper out of your pocket. Dump it in front of me, or how am I supposed to believe you won't try this stunt again?"
Liam's face burned scarlet. He yanked a tiny bottle from his sweater pocket and hurled it to the ground. It was Elaine's eye drops — he'd stolen it off her vanity.
Ken stared at it. No satisfaction, only a calm kind of release. This life, he wouldn't pay the price for their emotions.
The doorbell rang. "Ding-dong."
White had arrived.
Last time, Elaine had intercepted him, saying, "Ken just came back. I'll hold the trust fund for him." Then she blew the two million on Liam's cars and luxuries.
Not this time.
Ken strode to the door, yanked it open, and there was White — suit sharp, leather case in hand, two young assistants behind him.
"Young Master Ken, long time no see." White smiled warmly and handed him the case. "This is the trust fund Mr. Howard — your grandfather — left for you. Two million dollars, and the deed to a Park Avenue apartment. He said if you ever found your family, this would be yours, so you'd have a place of your own."
Ken's fingers brushed the hard edge of the deed. He looked up at Elaine and Liam.
Elaine's eyes were glued to the case, mouth slack with shock. She'd never guessed Grandpa left so much. Liam's fists clenched so tight his nails bit into flesh.
Grandpa… thank you. Ken unfolded the documents on the carved cabinet in full view of everyone. Sunlight fell on the words Ken Howard, sharp and undeniable.
"So Grandpa already made arrangements for me." He picked up the deed, tracing the address with his fingertips, voice steady, final. "Looks like I won't be needing to trouble you anymore. The Park Avenue place is right near BU."
Elaine snapped back and lunged for the papers. "Ken, you just got home, why leave so soon? Let Mom hold onto the apartment and money for you—"
"No." Ken stepped back, dodging her hand, tucking the documents into his suitcase. "You lost me at three. Found me at twenty just to use me. Not this life. I'm done helping any of you. From now on — we're strangers."
He grabbed his suitcase and turned for the door. Liam tried to block him, but White's assistants stopped him cold. Elaine opened her mouth, but Ken turned back, eyes like ice.
"By the way, I'll keep this video safe. If you try to come after me or Grandpa's assets, I'll make sure Wall Street's media sees exactly how the Richard family treats their own blood."
Sunlight poured through the windows, lighting his back. This time, he didn't look back. Didn't hesitate. Heaven had given him a second chance, and he was going to live for himself — cut loose from these parasites once and for all.