Levi Wings moved from room to room with practiced rhythm. He had already scrubbed the kitchen counters twice and swept every inch of the hallway. The windows sparkled from being wiped down, and the floor smelled faintly of lemon-scented detergent. The sunlight caught in tiny flecks of dust floating in the air, turning the moment nearly beautiful—until the front door creaked open.
Levi froze mid-step, broom in hand, as the voice rang out like a lash.
It smells like filth in here!"
Sarah Edwards strode into the house, her heels clicking sharply across the floor. She dropped her bag on the table with a thud and sniffed the air as if Levi's presence alone spoiled the oxygen.
"I spent the whole day out, and this is what I come home to?" she said, tossing her coat over a chair. "This place is disgusting. What have you been doing, Levi? Sitting around?"
"I cleaned everything," Levi said quietly, voice rough from hours of dust and silence. "I mopped the floors. I did the windows, the dishes—"
She turned to him, a finger pointed like a dagger. "Don't talk back to me. If this is what you call clean, I don't even want to know what your standards are. You're slower than a slug. Hurry up and finish the laundry or I'll send you to the market before dinner."
"I… I need to study," Levi said, barely above a whisper. "I have exams next week—"
"Exams?" Sarah laughed coldly. "Since when do you do anything with your life other than eat and sleep in this house? You think anyone cares about your exams? Look at you—you wouldn't last a day in the real world. Do the chores. That's what you're here for."
Levi's throat burned, but he nodded. "I'm sorry."
"Good," she snapped. "Then act like it."
She turned and disappeared into the kitchen, muttering something under her breath about "ungrateful strays." Levi stood for a moment, eyes lowered, fingers curling tightly around the broom handle. The apology echoed in his mind, bitter and dry. He had meant it, and yet it felt like swallowing ash.
As she left, she muttered to herself, " this loser adopted son."
The sound of soft steps on the stairs broke through the silence.
"Levi?" June's voice drifted down, gentle and hesitant.
He looked up, and there she was—June Edwards, framed in the staircase light like a secret the house didn't deserve. She had always been the only one who saw him, really saw him. Her eyes searched his face.
"She's being horrible again, isn't she?"
Levi offered a tired smile. "What's new?"
June stepped closer, her voice hushed. "You should be resting. I'll help you finish the laundry."
He shook his head. "If she sees you, it'll be worse.
"I don't care."
But Levi did. For her sake, he always did. He turned back to his broom, sweeping the dust that never seemed to go away.
The Edwards family's house sat on the corner of a narrow, crumbling street, its chipped paint and rusting gate standing like a warning to the world outside: *keep walking.* Inside, the rooms held an air of silence, broken only by the scrape of a broom across tile and the soft, steady breath of a boy trying not to cry.
Outside, the sky began to darken. Inside, the light stayed on, dim and flickering. And Levi, the unwanted shadow in someone else's house, swept and scrubbed and worked—because in this place, survival was earned in silence.
The early morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of Levi's room, casting long lines of gold across the cracked walls. The room was small, tucked away in the farthest corner of the house, behind the kitchen and past the servants' quarters. It smelled faintly of books, old wood, and lemon polish—a scent Levi had come to associate with quiet survival.
Sitting at the edge of his narrow bed, Levi stared down at the worn soles of his shoes. His hands, calloused from endless scrubbing and lifting, rested on his knees as a quiet question burned at the back of his mind—one he had never dared to ask aloud.
Why me? Of all the children, why did the Edwards family choose me?
He didn't know the answer. He only knew what followed. A name signed on a paper. A trip from a foster home in the city's forgotten corners to the grand marble halls of the Edwards estate. A promise of college tuition. And behind all that—expectation.
He was nineteen now, and the walls of the Edwards mansion still felt foreign. He had memorized every inch of it—the staircase with its glass railings, the long hallways filled with paintings of ancestors, the black-and-white tiles that never seemed to stay clean enough. And yet, he felt like a ghost inside them, drifting between spaces, seen only when there was work to be done.
It's the tuition that matters, he reminded himself, clutching that thought like a lifeline. They're paying for college. That's my way out.
The sharp voice of Sarah Edwards shattered the morning calm.
"Levi!"
He stood immediately, pulling his shoes on with practiced speed. He had long learned never to hesitate when she called. The last time he did, he went two days without food.
He stepped into the wide, polished living room, where Sarah stood with her arms crossed, dressed in expensive silk and annoyance.
"There you are. What took you so long?" she snapped. "Get to the market now. We're out of fresh produce. And don't forget the imported olive oil."
"I was just about to—" he began, but she cut him off with a glare.
"If you don't want to do it, Levi, you can start looking for a new place to live. How's that?"
He didn't flinch. He never did. His eyes lowered, his voice even.
"I'll go now."
She scoffed and turned away, muttering under her breath. "Ungrateful. Useless boy."
The Edwards family had three daughters—Angela, the eldest and the one who spoke with venom behind perfect lipstick; Gianna, the quiet manipulator who watched everything; and June, the only light in Levi's world. They also had one more adopted son, Matthew, who was brought in as a baby and raised as if he was blood. Unlike Levi, Matthew was given freedom, praise, respect.
But Levi? He was the mistake that never left. A charity case in designer hell.
He pulled his hoodie on and stepped out the side door, gripping the shopping list Sarah had scribbled onto a folded napkin. The warm breeze of Chicago brushed past him as he walked toward the market with the same calm steps he always carried
Jimmie Edwards, the patriarch of the family, was a powerful man—an influential figure in Chicago's political and business scenes. Levi had never felt the same disdain from him. Jimmie didn't speak much, but when he did, his words were measured. He would nod at Levi. Offer a rare "thank you" when things were done right. Once, a year ago, he'd handed Levi a book on law and said simply, "Might be useful."
That had been enough.
Still, Sarah's voice ruled the house. Her disapproval filled every room like fog. She never saw anything but failure in Levi—no matter how much he cleaned, studied, endured.
He walked with a quiet strength. No one watching him on the street would know the burden he carried. He didn't curse his fate. He didn't lash out. He simply endured—day after day, insult after insult—because he believed in something more. Because beneath the surface of the silent boy cleaning floors was a sharp, wise young man with a fire he refused to let die.
As he neared the market, Levi's jaw tightened. One day, he thought. He was still hopeful for a better day.
Then something came up in his mind. He remembered how June his adoptive sister had popped into his bathroom unannounced. "Could it have been intentional," he wondered.