Eight years of struggle—and at last, we had the blissful freedom of buying anything without checking the price tag!
We returned home with multiple carloads of shopping bags, dressed like two spoiled heirs from some old-money dynasty.
Every time Felix threw a sour comment about our "wasteful spending," I'd clap back with something sharp enough to slice his ego in half.
When he couldn't win with words, he started playing dirty.
On day one, he pretended to be delicate and "accidentally" dropped a flower vase from the second floor, aiming for us. Noah caught it with one hand, not even blinking.
On the second day, at dinner, he "slipped" and sent a pot of boiling soup flying toward me. Noah flicked it back with the spoon—and it scalded Felix's hand instead.
On the third day, Felix hid his diamond watch under our pillows, then brought the whole family to "catch the thieves." Too bad we pulled up the surveillance footage showing him sneaking into our room.
Cornered, he burst into fake tears and mumbled that it was "just a surprise gift gone wrong."
After that humiliation, he kept his head down for a while. But we both knew that silence meant only one thing—he was plotting.