My Stolen Life

I was the biological son of the old butler.

The real young master, however, was my personal attendant whom I had always bullied.

Over the years, people described me as arrogant and domineering, but I didn't care. My family was powerful and influential, and as the sole heir, no one dared to offend me. The household servants often suffered under my pranks but could only grumble in silence. This included my personal attendant, Robert.

Robert was good-looking, well-mannered, and always topped his class. He frequently received praise from my parents, which made me dislike him even more. He was the same age as me and had been by my side the longest, enduring most of my inexplicable outbursts. Yet he never complained, which pleased me.

I thought we would continue this way until the old butler who had looked after me since childhood revealed a shocking secret with a paternity test from the hospital. This kind of dramatic twist seemed straight out of a soap opera but had actually happened to me. I turned out to be an impostor who had stolen someone else's life.

How could I tolerate this?

Countless ways to eliminate Robert and remove future threats flooded my mind. Hiring an assassin? Creating an accident? No, that wouldn’t do. I shook my head vigorously to dismiss these dangerous thoughts. Although I had a bad temper and enjoyed tormenting people, I wasn't insane enough to challenge the law.

The risk of exposure made me increasingly irritable, and the servants around me kept their distance as if they could see the storm clouds gathering over my head. I sat on the edge of my bed with a gloomy face, racking my brain for a solution.

A methodical knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. The door opened to reveal the true young master who made me feel I was on pins and needles.

His black hair fell loosely over his forehead, beneath which were eyes as dark as ink that concealed his emotions. The corners of his eyes tilted slightly upwards, giving him a sharp look when he gazed at people.

I couldn't deny it. Robert was very handsome. He had a strikingly refined appearance and resembled my mother, no, his biological mother, connected by the deepest bond since birth.

In the past, I loved staring at his delicate features, but now I couldn't meet his gaze. The more I looked at him, the guiltier I felt.

As usual, Robert handed me a cup of warm milk to help me sleep. Normally, I would have petulantly refused this pure milk with its slight odor. But perhaps driven by guilt, I chose to accept it this time.

The heated cup still retained some of his warmth, making my palm feel even hotter.