Four Parents, Zero Love Chapter 2: What Was Owed

I tossed the photograph into the trash and looked around the room that had once been mine but had now become Dominic's walk-in closet.

My bed and desk were gone.

His vacation photos covered the walls. One of them had been taken at Claremont Bay on New Year's Eve this year. My biological parents had watched the fireworks with him.

He was wearing the black overcoat I'd saved up to buy. It had originally been kept in this room.

I'd searched everywhere for it.

Sylvia insisted I'd remembered wrong and told me not to blame everything on Dominic.

Now, in the photograph, the letter "M" I'd sewn by hand inside the collar was perfectly clear.

Dominic followed me inside. "Lachlan, I can give it back if you like it that much. I've already worn it, though. You won't mind, will you?"

"I don't want it."

He pursed his lips. "Are you still blaming me? Being switched at birth wasn't my fault. I never asked them to favor me."

Every time he said that, all four of our parents would feel sorry for him. As if being the one everyone favored somehow made him the victim.

I crouched down and rummaged through the trash bag. My diploma, family records, and the wooden box my grandmother had left me were all still there.

The only thing missing was my bankbook. It held the $110,000 I'd earned and saved from working part-time since I was sixteen.

Two months ago, Corbin had said he'd keep it for me.

"Where's my bankbook?"

Something flickered in Dominic's eyes.

Sylvia stood in the doorway. "We've used the money for now. Dominic's insurance had to be paid in full, and it happened to be exactly $110,000 short."

I stared at her. "You wouldn't spend your money to pay for my treatment, but you took mine to secure Dominic's future?"

Sylvia's expression darkened. "What do you mean, your money? We gave you a roof and fed you for eighteen years. Didn't any of that cost money? Besides, what good would $110,000 do for a condition like yours?"

Elise came over too. "Lachlan, don't get hung up on this. Dominic's insurance policy has beneficiaries. If anything happens to him in the future, the money will stay within the family."

I realized what was going on.

The money I'd saved to keep myself alive had been used to buy Dominic an insurance policy.

If Dominic lived, he got the money. If Dominic died, they got it. Either way, there was never anything left for me.

I turned on my phone's voice recorder.

"The $110,000 in that bankbook is money I earned myself. My lawyer will be contacting you tomorrow."

Corbin kicked the trash bag aside. "You're going to sue us? We raised you for eighteen years, and this is what we get? An ungrateful son? Let's settle it once and for all, then."

I looked up at him. "I'll pay back every cent I owe you. And you'll return every cent you took from me."

Dominic's eyes reddened as he grabbed Corbin's arm. "Don't be angry Dad. Lachlan is sick, and he's having a hard time right now. I'll give him the $110,000 out of my allowance."

It sounded generous, but he didn't even ask for my bank details.

Lillian walked in carrying a cake. "Dominic, why do you even bother? He won't be around for much longer, and now he wants to drag both families down with him."

When she was twelve, she'd broken her leg, and I'd carried her two blocks to the hospital.

After her surgery, she clung to me and cried, "Don't go, Lachlan. I'm scared."

Now, she couldn't wait for me to die.

I picked up my grandmother's wooden box. "Move."

Lillian blocked the doorway.

"There's another agreement tomorrow. Sign it, and we'll forget about the bankbook." Corbin spoke as though he were completely justified. "That way, when you die, we won't have all sorts of random people coming after us for your debts."

"Fine." I held the wooden box tighter. "Then, I'll see you at the notary's office tomorrow."

Dominic chased me out into the hall and pressed a bank card into my hand. "There's a thousand dollars on it. Buy yourself something good to eat."

He was wearing a brand-new watch. The receipt was sitting right there on the table. It cost $188,000.

I slipped the card back into his pocket. "Keep it. You'll have plenty of medical expenses to worry about later."

His face went pale. "What do you mean?"

The elevator doors slowly closed.

I looked at him. "I hope you live a long life."

Inside the apartment, Corbin shouted, "Bring your medical records tomorrow! The agreement needs to make it clear that your illness has nothing to do with either of our families!"