The Real Heir and His Family Falls Apart

Victor cut in, “He tried to use self-harm to pressure us into letting Max in, so he kept slapping himself. My sister and I ignored him.” Mom shot me a glare, then sighed. “Forget it, come eat.” I had just sat at the table when Dad’s furious shout made me jump.

“Who said you could eat!”

“Dad, I need to eat well tonight because I’m leaving soon.” Ignoring his blazing stare, I picked up my bowl and shoveled rice into my mouth.

Victor sneered. “What, trying to threaten us by running away? This is the apocalypse; you’ll die as soon as you step outside.”

“You’re right. I’m going to die.”

“You’re going to die?” Victor burst out laughing. “If you, Alan, dare die, I, Victor, will tear off my own head and let you kick it like a ball!”

“I don’t care about your head.”

Victor pulled out his phone and started his daily live stream again.

“Family, look what we’re eating today! Hairy crabs!”

“The fireplace is blazing today; I’m sweating even in just one thin layer.”

I opened his stream. There was no envy, no praise—only curses and hatred toward his shameless flaunting.

“Victor, ever heard of ‘hiding your wealth’?”

“You show starving refugees your endless supplies and still won’t give them a crumb. Aren’t you scared they’ll one day breach the fortress, rush in, and tear you apart?”

Unfazed, Victor spoke directly to the camera. “They’d have to be capable of breaking in. Even an atomic bomb can’t destroy our home. Why would I fear them?”

“These lowly people are destined to freeze or starve in this apocalypse. Letting them see how the upper class lives before they die will give them closure.”

I let out a soft laugh. Victor, you’ll soon become one of those lowly people yourself.

I quietly finished eating and went back to my room.

I called out to the system, “System, is there a painless way to die?”

“Searching… The host may choose euthanasia medication. Do you wish to proceed?”

“Proceed.” A syringe of clear liquid appeared in my hand.

It was the euthanasia drug.

After preparing everything, I went out to take a final walk, one last look at the place I’d lived for a decade.

But as I reached the second floor, I heard indescribable noises.

Following the sound, I stumbled upon a sight that froze my blood.

My wife, dead for three months, was alive and well—entwined with my brother, Victor.

My breath caught.

“Zoe Yates?” Both of them froze.

Victor chuckled. “Well, you caught us.”

Zoe was calmly dressed. “So what if he knows? I’m done hiding. Might as well face him.”

Rage consumed me. I grabbed a vase and smashed it.

“Zoe, what kind of monster are you?! You’re alive—and you’re here cheating with Victor!”

Victor grinned. “Actually, she’s been with me the whole time these past three months. We go at it multiple times every night.” Three months ago, Zoe ignored my warnings and insisted on visiting her best friend outside.

She vanished without a trace, and I never reached her again.

My family told me she was dead and that I should move on.