chapter 59 parasites

A Call from His Stepmother – Unwanted Summons

Ethan had barely let his body relax when his phone began buzzing loudly on the nightstand. The sharp vibrations cut through the quiet of his room, breaking his train of thought.

He glanced at the screen, his casual curiosity immediately shifting into a frown.

[Incoming Call: Vivian Vale]

> "Why is she calling?"

His stepmother, Vivian Vale, wasn't someone who called out of concern. If she was reaching out, it was because she wanted something.

Ethan stared at the screen for a moment, debating whether to answer. He had half a mind to ignore it, but he knew from experience that doing so would only make things worse. She wasn't the type to tolerate being ignored.

With a sigh, he picked up the call.

> "Hello."

A sharp, commanding voice greeted him—devoid of warmth, straight to the point.

> "Ethan. Come to Celeste Fine Dining in 30 minutes. It's lunchtime."

Ethan's frown deepened.

Celeste Fine Dining? That wasn't just any restaurant—it was one of the most expensive in the city, a place frequented by the wealthy and elite. What the hell did she want with him there?

He sat up, his voice calm but firm.

> "Why?"

> "I'm not in the mood for questions." Her voice was clipped, impatient. "Just be there. No excuses."

There was no explanation. No context. Just a demand.

Ethan's grip on the phone tightened. This wasn't a request—it was an order. The way she spoke, as if his time belonged to her, irritated him.

> "I'm busy," he tried. "I don't have time to—"

> "I wasn't asking."

Her voice was final. Cold. Absolute.

And before Ethan could say another word, the call ended.

Click.

The silence that followed only made his irritation grow.

Ethan let out a slow breath, forcing down the frustration bubbling in his chest. He tossed his phone onto the bed, rubbing his temples.

> "So annoying..."

It didn't matter that he had no interest in going. Refusing wasn't an option.

Vivian was the type of person who always got what she wanted. If he ignored her, she'd find another way to drag him there. She'd make his life miserable just to prove a point.

> "Tch. Whatever."

He stood up, rolling his shoulders as he grabbed his jacket. It was lunchtime, and he had no idea what she wanted, but he wasn't expecting anything good.

Still, he had no choice but to go and find out.

Journey to the Restaurant – Facing the Past

Ethan slipped on his jacket and stepped out of his apartment. The midday sun cast sharp shadows across the pavement, and the streets buzzed with activity. Office workers rushed to lunch spots, delivery bikes zipped past, and groups of friends chatted outside cafés.

But Ethan wasn't heading somewhere by choice.

> "Tch. Celeste Fine Dining…"

The name itself irritated him. Not just because it was a high-end place meant for the wealthy, but because of who had called him there.

Vivian Vale.

It had only been five days since she kicked him out of the house.

Five days since she chose his stepsister, Miranda, over him. Since she had looked at him like trash that needed to be thrown out.

> "And now she's calling me? For what?"

Ethan's footsteps remained steady, but his fists clenched inside his pockets.

If it were the past, he might have cared. He might have been hurt. But now?

> "Leaving that house was the best thing that ever happened to me."

He boarded the subway, moving through the crowd with ease. The moment he left that suffocating mansion, it felt like he had escaped hell. No more fake smiles. No more walking on eggshells. No more being treated as an outsider in his own father's house.

Vivian and Miranda were parasites.

They had clung to him for years, draining everything they could. His patience. His dignity. His father's legacy. And when they had no use for him anymore?

They threw him away.

Ethan leaned against the subway door, his reflection staring back at him.

> "In my past life, I was too blind to see it. I kept trying to be part of a family that never wanted me."

Not this time.

Whatever reason Vivian had for calling him now, it didn't matter. He already knew one thing—it wasn't out of concern. She wasn't suddenly feeling guilty. She wasn't trying to mend their relationship.

> "She wants something. That's the only reason she ever calls."

The subway doors slid open, and Ethan stepped out into the wealthier district. The difference was immediate. Expensive cars lined the streets, pedestrians dressed in luxury brands walked with an air of superiority, and every building radiated exclusivity.

It was a world he had never truly belonged to.

Even as the Vale family's eldest son, he was always treated like an outsider.

Ethan reached Celeste Fine Dining and pulled open the heavy glass doors. The restaurant was as extravagant as ever—soft classical music played in the background, the scent of gourmet dishes filled the air, and finely dressed waiters moved smoothly between tables.

His gaze locked onto Vivian Vale, seated in a private booth, her posture flawless as always. She barely glanced up when he entered, as if summoning him was the most natural thing in the world.

Ethan exhaled slowly.

This was going to be a waste of time.

Ethan stepped inside Celeste Fine Dining, his sharp gaze scanning the restaurant. The elegant atmosphere, polished wooden floors, and soft classical music were designed to make patrons feel important—but to him, it felt suffocating.

Then, he saw them.

At a private booth near the window sat Vivian Vale, his stepmother. Her flawless posture and carefully curated appearance made it clear—she was a woman who thrived on control. Next to her sat Miranda Vale, his so-called stepsister, who was just as well-dressed but carried a smug expression that made Ethan's stomach turn.

And to his irritation, both of them were waving at him.

> "Tch."

Ethan's first instinct was to turn around and walk out.

But Vivian's eyes held a silent command.

> "Sit."

She hadn't spoken yet, but he could feel the weight of her expectations. This wasn't a simple lunch invitation—it was an order.

And Miranda? She was watching him with amusement, as if this was a game to her.

Ethan let out a slow breath and forced himself to walk toward them. His movements were calm, composed—but his patience was already running thin.

As he approached the table, Vivian gestured toward the empty seat across from them.

> "Sit down, Ethan."

Her voice was smooth, polite—but completely devoid of warmth. The kind of tone a corporate executive would use when dealing with an employee, not a son.

Ethan pulled out the chair but didn't sit immediately. Instead, he placed one hand on the backrest and spoke flatly.

> "You kicked me out five days ago. What's with the sudden family meal?"

Miranda let out a quiet chuckle, covering her mouth with fake politeness.

> "Oh, Ethan, don't be so dramatic. It's just lunch."

Ethan's gaze flickered to her, cold and unreadable.

> "Cut the act, Miranda. We both know neither of you called me here just for 'lunch.'"

Vivian sighed as if his suspicion was unreasonable.

> "Ethan, sit. We need to talk."

Ethan glanced at her once, then at Miranda's barely concealed smirk.

> "Fine."

He pulled out the chair and sat down.

But inside?

He was already preparing to leave.