The Forgotten Son's Revenge My Mother Chose Him Over Me

Nathan stared at me, feigning shock.

"Marc?"

"Babe, give me a second," Emma said, flashing Nathan a reassuring smile. Before I could react, she seized my arm and dragged me out of earshot.

"Don't get the wrong idea," she hissed, releasing me. "We met after we broke up."

"Bullshit."

Heat flooded my vision, rage clawing at my throat. "He stopped being single this time last year. We were still together. You were already with him, weren't you?"

She didn't answer immediately.

I stepped forward, cornering her. "Emma, tell me the truth. Did we really break up because of the distance? Or was it him?"

She bit her lip, then met my gaze with chilling defiance. "Fine. Yes, I cheated. So what?"

I hadn't expected her to admit it so bluntly. The air left my lungs.

"Marc, look at where I came from," she said, her voice hard. "My parents are blue-collar workers. They scraped every penny to get me out of that town. I fought tooth and nail to get here. When a lifeline appears, I grab it. I don't apologize for surviving."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

She sighed. "My interview scores weren't high enough. I wouldn't have made the cut on my own. Nathan asked his mother—the branch president—to pull some strings. She got me in."

Disbelief paralyzed me. "His mother? You mean Emily?"

"Yes."

The ground tilted beneath my feet.

I, the biological son, had been blocked by arbitrary rules and conflict-of-interest excuses. Yet Nathan only had to whisper a request, and a stranger—someone my mother had never met—was welcomed with open arms.

I was the true heir. Yet I was the one standing on the outside.

I clenched my jaw, fighting the sting in my eyes. "I never thought you were capable of this, Emma."

"Don't play the victim," she snapped, crossing her arms. "You have no idea what it took to get here. Sure, I could have stayed with you, but if another man offers me a shortcut across social classes, why wouldn't I take it?"

She paused, her gaze sweeping over me with pity. "And let's be honest, Marcus. If the roles were reversed, you would have dumped me just as fast."

I stared at her, unable to recognize the woman I had once loved.

"So don't blame me for being pragmatic. Blame yourself. Blame your lack of ability. Blame the fact that you aren't Nathan, and you certainly don't have a mother like Emily backing you."

I froze. A bitter laugh bubbled in my chest.

"You really don't know whose son I am, do you?"

"Does it matter?"

"What if I told you Emily is my mother?"

She blinked. Then scoffed.

"If you were really her son, you wouldn't be standing here. You'd be in the Fortune 500 alongside Nathan."

I was left speechless.

"Em?"

Nathan's voice cut through the tension. He approached, brow furrowed in mock concern. "Everything okay? Is there a misunderstanding?"

"It's nothing," Emma said, dismissing me with a glance. "Just an ex who can't let go."

She linked her arm through his and walked away without a backward glance.

But just before they disappeared, Nathan looked back.

His mask evaporated. The corner of his mouth twisted into a smirk of pure, triumphant malice.

My phone buzzed. I answered mechanically, mind still reeling.

It was my father.

"Marcus," he barked. "It's Sunday. Are you still throwing a tantrum? Your mother is furious. Stop making trouble and come home."

"I'm not making trouble," I whispered, staring at the empty space where they had stood.