The rejected son of Alfa

The smell of old blood and mould filled the basement. 

With his hands bound behind his back and his lip split open from the previous blow, Lex Andrews knelt on the concrete floor. Richard Sterling towered over him like a mountain of muscle and pricey perfume. Richard's fist struck Lex's jaw once more. 

"You think you can eat our food, sleep under our roof, and give us nothing in return?" he asked. The world spun. "You are a parasite."

Lex tasted copper. He said nothing. Speaking only made it worse.

"Answer me!" Richard grabbed his hair, yanking his head back.

"I... I am looking for work," Lex managed.

Richard laughed. It was a cruel sound. "Work? You? My sister married a dog, not a man."

Footsteps echoed on the stairs. A woman's heels clicked against wood.

"Richard, Mother wants you upstairs." The voice was cold, detached. "Some of us have actual business to attend to."

Lex looked up through swollen eyes. She stood in the doorway, backlit by the light from above. Tall. Sharp business suit. Dark hair pulled back so tight it could cut glass.

His wife.

Sophia Sterling. No, Sophia Andrews now, though she never used his name.

"I was just teaching your husband some manners," Richard said, releasing Lex's hair. His head dropped forward.

"You are wasting your time." Sophia did not even look at Lex. "He has no manners to teach. Come. Father is waiting."

Richard kicked Lex in the ribs as he passed. "Clean yourself up before dinner. You disgust me."

The sound of their footsteps faded. 

The door shut with a slam. Everything was engulfed by darkness. 

Blood dripped onto the concrete as Lex sat by himself in the quiet. His ribs let out a scream. His face pulsed. The familiar ache in his chest, however, was worse than the physical pain. He had changed three years prior. Three years ago, he had a future.

Then came the accident. The betrayal. The fall.

Now he was this. Nothing. Nobody.

He closed his eyes and remembered his father's last words: "Survive, Lex. No matter what it takes. Survive."

Two hours later, Lex climbed the stairs. His ribs protested every step. He had washed the blood from his face in the basement sink, but the bruises would not hide.

The Sterling mansion sprawled before him like a monument to wealth he would never understand. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Paintings are worth more than most people earn in a lifetime.

He was a stain on their perfect world.

In the kitchen, the chef barely glanced at him. "Take this to the dining room. And do not drop it."

Lex took the tray. His hands shook, but he steadied them. He could not afford another mistake.

The dining room was a theatre of judgment. The long table seated twelve, but tonight only five people gathered. At the head sat Gerald Sterling, patriarch of the Sterling family, owner of Sterling Industries. Beside him, his wife Patricia, dripping in diamonds. Then Richard, still wearing the same satisfied smirk. And across from him, Sophia, her face a mask of ice.

The empty chair at the far end was his. The servant's position.

"You are late," Gerald said without looking up from his wine.

"I apologise." Lex set the tray down, distributing plates with careful precision.

"You apologise?" Patricia's voice was shrill. "You should be grateful we allow you to breathe the same air as us."