Chapter 2

"Brendan Floyd, you're really set on ruining this for me today, aren't you?"

Now Caspar's temper flared too.

Ten years ago, his family moved into the house across from ours.

From that day on, I had a second little shadow trailing after me.

Brendan, my younger brother, had been doted on by the two of us the whole time—almost like our own son.

"Even if you won't do it for me, do it for your sister. Whatever this is about, can't it wait until after the wedding?"

Watching Brendan shake his head, firm and unmoved, I walked over to him.

"Thirty thousand. A sum that big—what do you even need it for?"

Brendan looked at me, confused, and I slapped him again.

"Two thousand a month in wages. Say thirty thousand a year, if I'm generous. You'd have to work ten years to earn this."

"So you tell me—what makes you think you can demand thirty thousand from your brother-in-law?"

"If you can't give me a real reason today, then this bond between us as brother and sister is over."

That was what I said, but more than anything, I was frantic.

I'd half raised Brendan myself. How could I not know his nature?

My father came over, his face dark with displeasure.

"Whatever it is, can't you talk it out? Do you have to hit your brother? You and Caspar go inside first—"

"No!"

Brendan shouted it, then turned and yelled at the men he'd brought.

"Block them! Don't let them through!"

The men looked uneasy, but they did as he said.

They were the troubled kids Brendan had been helping out—most of them orphans.

Brendan ran an auto repair shop, and with him, they at least had food, drink, and a roof over their heads.

My parents used to bring it up with such pride.

"That boy has a good heart. He'll live a safe, happy life someday."

Same people, different scene. Now my father was heaving with rage.

"He's acting like a fool, and you're all going to act like fools with him? Get out of the way, now."

As he spoke, my father even stepped forward and kicked at them—just to scare them, of course.

But they only stood there with sheepish smiles, ringed around us, not budging an inch.

"Or if you don't want to sell the house, that works too. Sign the taxi over to me—the car, the license, the paperwork, all of it."

Brendan wore that reckless, couldn't-care-less look and threw out a new idea.

"Brendan Floyd, I'll ask you one last time. Is there any room to talk about this?"

Caspar asked it, holding down his fury.

I patted Caspar's arm and let the tears fall.

"Do you still see me as your sister?"

Brendan turned his face away, and the words out of his mouth cut just as deep.

"It's because you're my sister that today I have to add another thirty thousand."

"There's no give at all?"

"No give at all."

Hearing that flat, unbending answer, my father charged over, grabbed Brendan by the collar, and slapped him across the face, back and forth.

"How did I ever father a bastard like you? What kind of sin are you committing here?"

My mother's legs gave out; luckily someone caught her.

"Brendan, listen to your mother, just this once. Stop this. Stop it, please, will you?"

Brendan didn't say a word. I murmured a few things into Caspar's ear.

He looked startled at first, then nodded hard, jabbed a finger at Brendan, and raised his voice.

"The taxi license and the paperwork can be signed over to you. But remember one thing."

"From today on, I recognize your father and your mother—but I do not recognize you as my brother!"