The Men Who Walked Out

Sophie hurriedly hid her hand behind her back.

The very next second, Bruce Hardman reached over and pulled it out again, brazenly holding it up in front of me.

"Couple bracelets. I bought them," he said with a smirk. "What—got a problem with that, little brother? You're so damn stingy. Am I not even allowed to give her a gift?"

The blatant provocation set my anger ablaze. I swung and punched him square in the face.

He wasn't weak either. He struck back immediately, his strength even greater than mine, knocking me flat to the ground with a single blow.

Seeing this, Sophie rushed over to help me up. "You're brothers. Don't do this, okay? My mom made dinner—come upstairs and eat with us."

I shoved her away.

"Your mom wouldn't even let me through the front door. Eat what—air? Sophie, why did you hide this from me?" I demanded. "Do we not even have the most basic honesty between us anymore? If you don't want to marry me, just say it. I won't hold you back."

With that, I got up, covered in dirt, and ran home.

…

The moment I walked through the door, I saw my mother and Julian seated at the dining table, enjoying a candlelit dinner.

"Nick, this is Julian," my mother said. "I didn't get a chance to introduce him to you yesterday."

I looked up at him with open hostility and sneered, "Oh? Looks like the son really takes after the father—both dressed decently, yet only good at seducing other men's women."

My mother's face darkened. She raised her hand and struck me hard.

"How dare you speak to an elder like that? Since when did you become so ill-mannered?"

I let out a cold laugh. "Ill-mannered? I must've learned it from you. You sent my fiancée to cater to his son—shouldn't that be called having no manners?"

Her eyes red, she slapped me across the face.

"He's my son too!" she shouted. "You're brothers. What's wrong with letting your fiancée keep him company? Why are you so petty? Am I really that filthy and despicable in your eyes?"

Tears streamed down her face as she leaned against Julian's shoulder, sobbing.

Julian patted her gently and spoke in a soft voice. "Nick, this is all my fault. Don't let Bruce and I come between you and your mother. I'm to blame."

My mother quickly covered his mouth. "No, Julian. This has nothing to do with you. I simply failed to raise Nick properly."

At that moment, the villa doors flew open. Bruce rushed straight to my mother's side, concern written all over his face.

"Mom, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

She looked up and immediately noticed the injury at the corner of his mouth. "Bruce, you're hurt! Did you get into a fight? Does it hurt?"

Bruce shot me a wounded glance.

"Mom, Nick hates me. He's had your love for more than twenty years already. I'm really jealous. I want a mother's love too. I'm not greedy—couldn't you just give me a little?"

My mother's tears fell even faster. She straightened up and shoved me hard.

"Is this how you act as a younger brother? I carried Bruce for ten months too. How can you be so intolerant of him?"

I let out a bitter laugh and raised my hand, pointing at the blood still trickling from the corner of my own mouth.

"Mom, I'm hurt worse than he is, and you didn't even notice. Right now, all you see is them. So what are Dad and I supposed to be to you?"

She froze, then finally looked at my injury.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I just didn't notice…"