Rejected to Redeemed Chapter 2

"Fine, I'll go to the Laurel Room."

I didn't argue or try to reason with them. I already knew it wouldn't do any good.

When we got to the hotel, I found out I was the only one the staff led into the Laurel Room.

A massive round table, delicate place settings, all of it only making how alone I was more obvious.

The walls were soundproofed well, but I could still make out faint laughter drifting over from next door.

Pete was probably surrounded right now by my parents, my sister, and every relative who'd rushed over the second they heard the news, treated like an actual prince.

And me, the supposed true heir, sitting in a room so empty it was practically a joke.

Dish after dish came out, and dish after dish went cold.

I didn't touch a single one.

That was the moment I finally understood, completely: yes, I was their biological son. But I would always be the one they were willing to throw away.

The day after the dinner, Dad called me into his study.

He pulled out a bank card and slid it across the desk to me.

"Yesterday, your mom and I were worried you'd feel awkward not knowing any of the relatives." His fingers tapped against the rosewood desk. "There's some money on this. The PIN is your birthday. Buy whatever you want. Don't go without."

I looked at the card, something heavy settling in my chest.

I knew exactly what this was. Compensation for that empty room.

I didn't say thank you. I just reached out, took the card, turned around, and left without another word.

Behind me, Dad seemed to let out a sigh.

I didn't look back.

The last weekend before school started, the family was hosting one of its regular gatherings.

My mom announced, practically giddy, that she was taking Pete to have a suit tailored for the occasion.

Then, as if she'd only just remembered I existed, she turned to me.

"Blake, come along too. We might as well pick something out for you while we're there."

I didn't refuse.

Probably because the second the refusal left my mouth, all that waited for me were looks of disgust and incomprehension.

At the tailor's studio, Pete was immediately swarmed by designers and assistants.

Mom stayed by his side the whole time, eyes soft with indulgence, offering her opinion every so often.

Me, I was led over to the ready-to-wear section by an assistant.

"Mr. McGee, please have a look and see if anything suits you." He was polite and distant.

I flipped through the hanging clothes without much thought. Every single price tag made me wince.

Mom wandered over for a moment and pointed at one at random. "That one. It matches your skin tone." She didn't even ask if it fit.

At the family gathering, I ended up exactly the joke I'd expected to be.

Pete moved through the crowd of relatives and family friends in his tailor-made suit.

Everyone praised him. Handsome, full of presence, and what a good eye Mom had.

Me, in that expensive but off-the-rack white outfit, with sleeves and pant legs that ran a little short.

People nodded politely. "Oh, that's Blake. He's fine too."

Then they turned around and snickered behind my back at how badly I was imitating my brother.

I didn't bother keeping up with the fake pleasantries. I just ate my fruit and kept to myself.

I hadn't had more than a few minutes of peace before Alexis stormed over, her face dark, and pulled me aside.

"Could you at least try smiling? Who exactly are you scowling at all day?"

Her voice was low, but every word dripped with reproach.

"Mom and Dad bought you such expensive clothes, and this is the attitude you give them? Pete's trying so hard to get close to you, and you won't even look at him."

I looked at her righteous expression and almost found it funny.

"Do you even know what gratitude means?" Alexis's voice climbed when I didn't answer. "Our family doesn't owe you anything!"

I threw the apple I'd been eating at her.

"Doesn't owe me anything? What do you call giving birth to me and then losing me for ten years?"

Alexis was speechless. It took her a while to choke out, "That wasn't our fault!"