Chapter 2
S he’s gone.
Just like that.
One confession, and I’m worthless.
What a fucked up world. What a fucked up girl. All because I’m not truly a part of a rich family.
Fuck girls. Fuck money. Does it really matter that much, Sarah? Does it really mean a damn thing, Mr. Hill? Does it?!?
In anger, I screamed, turned to the nearest tree, and kicked it as hard as I could. I had hoped for some sort of cathartic release, but the only thing I released was an onslaught of pain from stubbing my toe.
The worst of it, though, had only just begun.
Because in the distance, perhaps drawn in by my screams and cries of frustration, came Morgan, my “brother.”
I wouldn’t ever admit to the tears making tracks down my face, just like I wouldn’t admit to my new shoe getting scuffed from kicking the tree.
There were a lot of things about the scene that had just transpired that I was never going to admit to, especially considering that Morgan was, well, a real member of the Hunt family.
I lifted my hand resolutely, swiping furiously at the tears that had leaked out, and tried not to glare at Morgan.
Truthfully, my brother was my best friend, there was no denying that, but there were some things I just didn’t share with anyone.
And that was especially true after what had just happened.
In fact, I pretty much decided right then and there I would never say anything with the power to humiliate or emotionally blackmail me with. Not that I ever considered Morgan capable of the latter, but I would still never say a word for quite some time, if ever.
“So… what was that about?” Morgan finally asked.
Damnit, he probably saw everything. Or at least the important stuff.
I didn’t want to answer him for a multitude of reasons, especially with how emotional I was afraid the words would currently come out.
I didn’t do emotion in front of Morgan—or anyone, really, except apparently Sarah—and I didn’t like talking about it, even if I felt things to a much greater degree than even I could admit to myself.
I kicked at the rocks at my feet a few times, adding even more scuffing to those new shoes, and thinking with some satisfaction that now they’d have to be replaced.
Maybe this time, Mr. Hunt’s stylist would provide me with something a little less eighteenth century schoolboy-esque, something a bit more modern, something a bit more…
well, blending to suggest I belong but not so ostentatious as to draw attention.
I wasn’t holding my breath in hope of it… Like my argument just now had proved… things weren’t likely to go my way.
Be honest, and you get hurt.
“Girls are fucking dumb.And money is fucking dumb,”
Both of the things were dumb; combined, though? They were catastrophic. All that it had produced was a whole lot of heartbreak, a feeling of isolation, and a future in which I felt compelled to belong but knew I would never truly “belong.”
“Okay….” Morgan drew out, the question obvious in his tone despite him not asking it.
Why should he? He wouldn’t know or even be able to comprehend the problem that I was facing.
Frankly, he was just a stupid billionaire twelve year old who’d never had to want for anything in his entire damned life.
I didn’t either, at least in the sense of material things, but I knew my place in the family heirarchy, and it did not involve me getting to ask for things.
I sniffed, rubbing my wrist beneath my eyes again as I tried not to glare at his brother. I knew it didn’t do any good. But damnit, I had to try.
“I mean I still like girls… and I like money… soooo,” Morgan trailed off again, obviously trying to provide me with something to answer to, but also obviously at a loss for my problem. Really, truly, honestly doesn’t get it.
“What the hell would you know about it?” I fired back, rolling my eyes and only just managing to stop myself short of continuing on in the same vein.
It wasn’t, actually, Morgan’s fault that Sarah was a spoiled brat. Just like it wasn’t Morgan’s fault that any of that was happening.
He just was the easiest, and most related target for me to lash out at for the moment. Wrong place, wrong time, brother. Not that Morgan was lashing back, just looking at him in that annoying way that he had… like he was just going to wait for me to talk.
I loved him, I really did—not that I would admit it, though—but sometimes I just wanted to smack him for how naive and unaware he was.
“I was dating Sarah,” I finally spat out, the words burning the back of my throat like sulphuric acid.
But in retrospect, was I ever? We both had rich families, sure, but even ignoring my own status as an adopted sun, the Hills were much flashier and much less subtle about their wealth.
I never found Mr. Hunt to be careful, per se, but Mr. Hill was in your face about it. And Sara had picked up right on it.
Looking back on it, it was a surprise that she had even agreed to go into the woods with me. Perhaps, now that I thought about it, she really did like me. Maybe I was as much of an idiot as I had believed.
Except… Sarah was notorious for turning all of the boys who chased her down. She was a teenage boy’s dream, all blonde hair and early blooming curves, with perfect skin and a pouty, red mouth. She wasn’t the first girl I’d ever kissed, but she was the dream of dreams.
I hadn’t minded the secrecy of it all at first, especially as it had afforded them more alone time together.
I was a lot of things, but first and foremost I was a red-blooded male, and the idea of spending time alone with Sarah had been just about all that I had wanted.
I guess this is where I say I should be careful for what I wish for. Fucking stupid.
I kicked another set of rocks and cursed under my breath, shoving my hands down deep into my pockets to keep from lashing out at Morgan or the tree. Yes, I was that frustrated. And yes, I was that frustrated at myself.
“She let me…”
I stopped, groaning and kicking even harder at the rocks at my feet. An annoyed sigh heaved up my chest. My hands dug deeper. Nothing could stop the shame and embarrassment I felt in that moment.
“We met here every damned day,” I said. “Apparently she thought that I was a Hunt.”
I hadn’t told her otherwise, and she had no reason for thinking otherwise. It wasn’t even like I could blame her for having thought that. I lived in their house, I attended a lot of functions with them, I’d been around for almost as long as Sarah would have been able to take notice of the house.
Sarah…
I could still see her face when I’d told her the truth, her eyes widening, her expression dropping like someone had held her at gunpoint.
Adopted by wasn’t as good as born to.
Nothing would change that.
“I told her I was adopted just now,” I huffed, glaring out over the hill that hid her house from view on their property.
“She can’t date a poor guy you know, it’s just ‘not done.’ Her father would never allow her to date me.
Doesn’t matter that I’m considered family.
Dating me would probably be grounds for being sent away… or worse.”
I had no idea if that was true, but the words seeped in sarcasm and bitterness did the trick. Hearing the words from her was just like an affirmation of all of the things he knew growing up, thrown back in his face and left there to fester.
Except she hadn’t just thrown them. She had taken them, shaped them into a knife, let me look at it, and then walked around and stabbed me in the back.
“You know what’s sad? Well, you might not think this. But… When she thought I was a Hunt things were good…”
The minute that she found out otherwise, the minute that she found out who I really was…
And I knew there was no escaping my current fate, my current status, and my current family.
In some ways, I loved them. They helped me and gave me what they needed.
But in other ways, I hated being with them.
I had to live with them, learn all of their rules and their intrigues, but I was never going to be good enough.
My future, sincerely, was that of the simple son adopted to be built into what looked like a manservant for their only real son.
That was my place, the place that Mr. Edwin Hunt had appointed me before even meeting me.
It just wasn’t the role that I had actually taken on, something that had more to do with Morgan and my mother than it did with Mr. Hunt’s planning—God knows Mr. Hunt had no shame in playing up the family dynamics.
Morgan didn’t want me as a manservant, he wanted him as a friend and a brother, which, I guess, a friend and a brother I was, good enough in Morgan’s eyes… but no one else’s.
I would always be on the outside looking in, like the kids outside those pastry shops I’d grown up passing with the Hunt’s who could not afford the luxury desserts, all of those goods lined on the counter that they would never get to touch.
It was the same hollow, hungry feeling that choked up the back of my throat and lay leaden in my stomach.
I may be named Chance Hunt, but I sure as hell didn’t feel like a Hunt right now—or ever, for that matter.
“You won’t always be poor, Chance,” Morgan finally cut in, drawing my gaze back.
The funny thing was, when I got older, I always wondered if Morgan was the one thing I would end up feeling the most hate about being adopted by the Hunt’s…
and was the one thing that actually made any of the bitter yearning bearable.
The two of us had bonded so far past what Mr. Hunt had intended for us to do, our lives intertwining until they were past the point of being separated.
My “father” might be that only in the legal sense, but Morgan was truly my brother.
“You have to say that,” I replied lightly, trying to let his friend off of the hook. “Since I’m destined to grow up and be your damned butler. At least I won’t be your maid.”