The Abandoned Heir

My entire body tensed.

Ethan crouched slightly, bringing his face closer to mine. "Seeing your own proposal with my name on it while you don't even have the chance to stand on that stage—does it hurt?"

The air between us grew suffocating.

His voice lowered to a whisper, dripping with mockery. "Owen, if I were you, I would've been better off dying in that orphanage. At least there, you could still walk. That's far better than this—being unable to even stand."

My face gradually turned pale. My fingers trembled slightly, but I clenched them into fists to suppress my emotions.

Ethan wasn't finished.

"Oh, right. You still don't know, do you?" He chuckled. "It was Dad who stole your proposal and sent it to me."

The words sent a sharp jolt through me.

He leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting against my ear. "He said that you're nothing more than an orphanage boy. Showing up at the meeting would only bring shame to the Griffith Family."

My heart pounded violently against my ribcage.

"Your education, your looks—you can't compare to me in anything. And the parents you fought so hard to reunite with? They're the ones who crippled you. Even I feel sorry for you."

Just as I was about to react, he suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. Caught off guard, my balance wavered and I tumbled down a few steps with Ethan. The sound of our bodies hitting the stairs echoed sharply in the empty stairwell.

The commotion drew my father over. His face turned red with fury the moment he arrived.

Without hesitation, he slapped me across the face.

A sharp sting spread across my cheek. My head snapped to the side from the impact, my vision momentarily blurring.

"You disgraceful brat! What do you think you're doing? That's your brother! How could you lay a hand on him?"

I hadn't even gotten up when Ethan, ever so considerate, pushed my wheelchair toward me and helped me back into it. With a magnanimous expression, he said, "It's alright. Owen is still young. Seeing me present while he wasn't allowed on stage—it's normal for him to feel upset. I don't blame him."

The shareholders, who had followed the noise, exchanged confused glances.

"What brother? The Griffith Family has another son?"

"Mr. Peter, you never mentioned this to us."

My father's face darkened. He hesitated, clearly caught off guard.

Then, he forced a stiff smile and answered, "No, he's just an adopted child. A foster son, that's all. He wants to join the company, but it was just a misunderstanding. Sorry for making everyone confused..."