They Stole My Patents for Their Real Son—Now I Want Revenge

After personally ruining my future, there wasn't a trace of regret on my dad's face.

"This isn't fair. I worked hard on that patent. Why does it become his just because you say so?"

"It's written right here in black and white. The holder is Marcus Thornton."

I pointed at the patent certificate and challenged him.

The academic affairs secretary knocked and came in. "Director Thornton, about Harrison Mason staying on at the school—the patent invention certificate section still needs to be filled in."

I cut her off. "He can't fill in that section. That patent isn't his."

She turned the iPad toward me. Three words filled the screen: Harrison Mason.

"Impossible. This is a fake website."

I snatched the iPad from her hands and kept refreshing, unwilling to give up.

What the hell—the patent I personally submitted now listed Harrison Mason as the holder.

My dad shoved me aside and returned the iPad to the secretary.

After seeing her out, he turned to me.

"You saw it yourself. The patent holder is Harrison. You don't have research results. You don't meet the graduation requirements. Delaying graduation is what you deserve."

"Stop dragging this out. Harrison's appointment ceremony is about to start. Stay put and behave yourself."

After that threat, my parents ran off to the school auditorium with smiles on their faces.

I replayed every detail—preparing the materials, uploading them. I did everything. He only helped me record a few data points.

Still unwilling to give up, I refreshed the webpage again. All the public patent research results were submitted by me.

So where exactly did things go wrong?

I gripped my hair, and an image flashed through my mind.

After carefully checking the computer, I found it—someone had planted a virus.

Everything I did on this machine, they could see.

With a bang, I smashed the computer into pieces. The one my parents personally gave me as an entrance gift.

For Harrison, they really would stop at nothing.

Besides monitoring my computer, they'd even made a fake confirmation link. So I'd be sure my patent had no problems. So I wouldn't have time to fix it, and could only delay graduation while they manipulated me.

I walked out of the office, dazed and hollow.

Discussion drifted over from nearby.

"That's him—the only one delaying graduation this year. I heard he's Director Thornton's son."

"Someone with no arms still developed a patent and got to stay at the school, and this guy can't even write a thesis."

"Pathetic. With resources like Director Thornton and his wife, and he still can't graduate."

All those voices that once questioned how Harrison got admitted as some kind of free add-on—they came back and hit me all at once.

No. I refuse to accept this.

I went back to the lab, planning to grab all the experimental data and file an appeal.

Beep beep beep—the access control let out a piercing alarm.

"Marcus, Mr. Mason said without his permission, you can't enter this lab."

A younger student passing by gave me a sympathetic look. "Mr. Mason heard you're delaying graduation and felt bad. He left you a workstation."

In an abandoned room next to the lab, I found my old experiment computer.

Everything on it had been wiped clean.

Harrison might not understand how, but my mom teaches computer science. She could definitely do it.

The evidence I'd been counting on to clear my name—gone.

Heart like dead ashes, I slumped to the floor.

Outside the door, I heard my parents and Harrison returning to the lab to celebrate.

Fine. If he wants this patent so badly, he can have it.

Without this patent, without that diploma.

I can still live normally.