Zeus Ring

Ethan Summers trudged up the driveway, his feet dragging through the gravel as he approached the imposing mansion that he'd grown to know as home, the Summer's resident estate.

The house loomed over him, slightly intimidating no matter how long he'd been in there. Or maybe, it wasn't the house as much as the people he knew were in it.

"Another day," he sighed dejectedly as he slung his bag across his shoulder and tried to wear a smile.

As he reached the front door, the voices from inside grew louder. He paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob, bracing himself for the inevitable harsh reception.

It was a pattern, one he'd lived with for the past one decade. He had gotten used to it, or so he told himself. But it didn't hurt any less.

He entered quietly, creaking the door shut as softly as he could and hoping to slip past unnoticed, but the shrill voice of his aunt, Margaret, pierced the air just as he was in the hallway.

"Ethan, is that you?" Margaret's voice was thick with annoyance, she always sounded as if his mere presence was an inconvenience.

Ethan winced and dropped on the soles of his feet as he sighed and walked into the living room. The place was furnished liberally, as was the rest of the estate. Artworks lined the walls and furniture were the best in the city.

"Ethan, didn't I just call you?" She said again, her voice this time clearly irritated.

Ethan walked to where his aunt sat on a plush couch, her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around a glass of wine. "Yes, Aunt Margaret," he replied, his voice low, avoiding eye contact.

Margaret's eyes narrowed as she looked him over, her lips curling in disgust."You're late. Again," she snapped. "Where have you been?"

Ethan began to reply but she didn't even wait for that. She lifted her fingers, signaling him to stop.

"Don't waste my time and yours. We all know what you do with your time. You laze around while your brother works tirelessly to bring honor to this family."

Ethan swallowed, the words still stung despite their familiarity. "I was at work," he said simply.

"Work," Margaret scoffed, her voice filled with sarcasm. "That dead-end job of yours? Is that how you'll gain the experience you need to join the Summer's enterprise? It's no wonder you're such a disappointment."

Ethan's face flushed, but he remained silent. He knew better than to argue. His aunt's disdain for him had been a constant presence in his life, ever since his parents had died in that car accident when he was only seven. His uncle Richard and aunt Margaret had taken him in, but they had never treated him as one of their own.

Somehow, his older brother, Kyle, easily won their love and trust. He was the golden kid that they loved and were proud of and Ethan was an outsider, an unwanted obligation.

"Where's Kyle?" Ethan asked, trying to deflect the conversation. He'd learnt early enough that Aunt Margaret would rather talk about her favorite nephew than talk to him.

"Kyle is out," Margaret replied, her tone softening at the mention of Kyle. "He's at the gym, working on his physique. Not that you would understand the importance of taking care of oneself."

Ethan clenched his jaw. It didn't matter how many years he'd heard it, it never failed to hurt. He was constantly being compared to Kyle and he couldn't feel worse.

Aunt Margaret took every opportunity to remind him that Kyle was better than he could ever be and he should do everything to be more like him.

Ethan was trying his best but clearly no one would ever see that, at least not in the Summer family.

As far as Richard and Margaret were concerned, Kyle had always been the favored one, the perfect son in Margaret's eyes. The son she never had. He was tall, athletic, and handsome, with a charm that effortlessly won people over. Ethan, on the other hand, was quiet. He didn't know how to play with words and he certainly didn't know how to be a people pleaser like his brother.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's at the gym." He replied as casually as he could, ending the conversation.

He made his way to the kitchen, his stomach rumbling with hunger. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted chicken filled the air, reminding him that he hadn't eaten all day. He reached for a loaf of bread, but Margaret's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't you dare touch that," she snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. "That's for dinner. If you're hungry, find some leftovers or go make yourself some soup."

Ethan sighed and turned to the cupboard, opening the fridge to look for some leftover pizza. But he didn't find any. Sighing, he searched the cupboard for a can of soup and he sighed when he finally saw one. He poured it into a pot and began to heat it up.

His mind was not focused at all. He'd had a pretty stressful day and wanted nothing to have dinner and just get to bed.

Quietly, he continued to stir the soup steadily and soon, it was already bubbling. But as Ethan reached to turn off the stove, Margeret's voice cut through the air sharply.

"Ethan! What on earth are you doing?"

He turned, startled, just as Margaret snatched the pot from the stove. The hot soup sloshed over the sides, spilling onto Ethan's shirt. The scalding liquid seared his skin, and he cried out in pain, stepping back.

"You clumsy idiot!" Margaret shouted, her face twisted in a fierce frown. "You can't even make a simple bowl of soup without ruining it? Useless, worthless boy!"

Ethan's face burned with shame, not just from the soup, but from Margaret's words. But his expression remained blank.

"You should be more like your brother," Margaret continued, her voice filled with disdain. "Look at him-successful, hardworking, a real man. And what are you? Nothing but a burden."

Ethan stood there, his heart thumping, as the woman who was supposed to care for him tore him apart with her words. The pain in his chest was almost tangible, physical. But he held it in, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing him break.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, barely audible. "I'll try again."

"Shut up!" Margaret roared and furiously slapped him across the face. "Sorry isn't good enough, you idiot!" her voice was cold. "Clean this up and get out of my sight."