"How can you say I don't care?" His mother's voice trembled with a practiced hurt.

"I wash his clothes. I cook his meals. I let him have whatever he wants. My house is cleaner than anyone's in the village. How is that not caring?"

That wasn't how you raised a child.

It was late. Julian Hale didn't want to fight. He walked into the study and stood over Jason. "Give me the phone."

Jason didn't look up from the game. He ignored him.

"Jason," Julian's voice dropped. It was cold. Professional. The months at Apex Capital had stripped away the submissive student; he carried the sharp, distant edge of the corporate world now. "Phone. Now."

Jason finally grunted. "Let me finish this round." He barked into his headset, "My brother's taking my phone. I've got an 8:00 AM class."

Fury flared in Julian's chest. He reached for the device, then stopped. He remembered the sudden, irrational rages of his parents when he was a child. He wouldn't become them.

He waited. When the round ended, Julian confiscated the phone under Jason's resentful glare. He handed it back to his mother. "Don't let him have it again."

"Jason!" she shrieked. "No more games on my phone! Do you hear me?"

Julian thought that was the end of it. The next evening, he returned to find Jason scrolling through short videos. Julian checked the screen time. Six hours. They hadn't even left the apartment all day.

"Why does he have your phone again?" Julian asked.

"He wanted to play," she whispered, looking like the victim. "What was I supposed to do?"

"What about his winter break homework?"

"I've got it covered," Jason snapped.

"He usually does it all three days before school starts," his mother added.

Julian's face was a mask of stone. He took the phone. "No more games. No more videos. Two hours of homework every day. You supervise him."

Jason let out a wail. His stocky frame—nearly five-foot-seven at age twelve—threw itself at Julian like a cannonball. "You aren't my brother! You're a demon! I'll destroy you!"

Julian stumbled back, nearly hitting the coffee table. He gripped Jason by the collar and shoved him away. "Crying won't work."

Jason sobbed louder. Julian's father stayed in the master suite, silent. He never participated in their disputes, as if his paycheck was a divine grace that exempted him from parenting.

The next day, Julian hired a local guide. He dragged the three of them through museums, zoos, the planetarium, and the aquarium.

Three days. Six exhibits. Jason was too exhausted to ask for a game. He ate like a pig and slept like a stone. Julian didn't care about other "bratty" kids, but this was his own blood.

He tried to have a serious conversation with his parents. He told them to limit the screen time. To prioritize his studies.

His father offered no opinion. His mother agreed at first, then wavered. "But if I don't give him the phone, he won't leave me alone."

"That's how kids are," Julian said, his patience thinning. "You have to build the habit. He's going into middle school. It can't go on like this."

"We didn't manage you," she countered. "And you got into a top school in Boston."

Because I fought for it myself. Julian bit the words back. It would only hurt her. "Times are different. You have to be involved. Where is the learning tablet I bought him? One hour a day."

"He doesn't look at it. I think Jason is just... slow," she said, her tone bordering on disdain. "His grades were never as good as yours. We spent thousands on tutors and it did nothing. I don't know what will become of him."

The implication hung in the air. Julian didn't engage.

Jason started screaming again. He wanted his games. His mother started scolding him, but Julian realized the performance was for his benefit. The moment Julian turned his back, Jason would have the phone again.

Julian had said his piece. He provided the money. Jason wasn't his child. He had done enough.

The next morning, his parents approached him with somber faces. They had a "proposal."

They wanted to send Jason to a private middle school.

"Private school?" Julian stared at them. "A family like ours? In what world?"

"You know his grades," his mother explained. "He won't make it into a magnet school. He'll be stuck in the remedial tracks. Mrs. Liu said the private schools in the city have a much higher rate of getting kids into elite high schools."

Julian's jaw tightened. "What's the cost?"

"It's... a lot."

"How much?"

"Twenty thousand for tuition. With boarding and fees, maybe twenty-five thousand a year."

"Twenty-five thousand a year?" Julian's blood ran cold. "Where would that money even come from?"

"We wanted your opinion," she said, her eyes full of a desperate expectation. "You're working now. We heard your salary is very high. We thought... maybe you could support your brother."

Julian said nothing.

The silence was a bruise. "If we have to," she muttered, "we'll sell the house in the city and move back to the countryside."

She was being dangerously naive. "And Dad's job? Your retirement? What then?" Julian asked.

"That's years away," she stammered.

"Years?" Julian's control snapped. "He's only twelve! You want to bankrupt yourselves for a private school? What happens when he fails to get into an elite high school? Or a top college? How much more do you plan to bleed for him?"

"He has to have an education!" she cried.

"Then supervise him! But you don't. You throw a phone at him and give up. And now you want to send him to private school?" Julian had always pitied her, but now he felt only rage. "You never spent twenty-five thousand on me in my entire life. Now you want to spend it on him in a single year?"

"Times have changed," she whispered guiltily. "Prices are higher. And our finances are better now."

"Finances are better?" Julian laughed. It was a jagged, bitter sound. "Then why did you refuse to let me go to graduate school?"

They both looked away, faces flushed with shame.

His father found his voice first. It was loud and defensive. "Your school was good enough! What else do you want? My father didn't even let me finish middle school!"

"How can you be so selfish?" his mother added. "You made it out. Why won't you help your brother? We worked so hard to put you through school!"

"Selfish?" Julian's heart turned to ice. "Do you remember how you treated me? You dumped me in the countryside. I was cold. I was hungry. I had endless farm work and endless beatings."

"We were poor, so you made me wear my cousin's hand-me-downs. You didn't care that I was bullied for it."

"Then you dumped me with Uncle. I cried. I begged to stay with you. You said you were too busy, too tired. But then you secretly had a second child and didn't even tell me until he was born."

"Jason grew up by your side. He had all your love. And me? I spent every day waiting for you to come home. And when you did, you complained that I wasn't 'affectionate' enough. That I wasn't as sweet as Jason."

"I studied my way out of that hell. I found a job. I'm not even graduated yet and I send you five hundred dollars every month. And you call me selfish?"

"Is this what parents are? Tell me. Who is the selfish one?" Julian erupted. The resentment of twenty years was a wildfire, consuming everything in the room.

His mother looked terrified. She stared at him, then glanced at his father as if looking for a witness. She forced a small, shaky laugh. "What are you talking about? I don't remember any of that. Ask your father. We were always good to you when you were little."

Julian took a step back. The blood in his veins turned to lead.