The words left Asher's lips sharper than he expected, but he didn't regret them.
"What did you call me?" he said in his tiny voice.
The maid blinked in disbelief, as though she couldn't believe the disrespect coming from someone barely taller than the table. But Asher didn't flinch. His small hands curled into fists at his side.
"I'm the first young master of my daddy," Asher repeated firmly. He could still hear his mother's voice ringing in his head from other nights before, though her words were heavy with bitterness. That boy… he's just a product of your father's mistake… reckless… shameful.
Asher didn't fully understand what 'recklessness' meant, but from the way his mother spat the word, it had to be something bad. Something disgusting.
So this boy, this Alex, wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to have the garden, the fancy maids, or the attention of Heather — the woman Asher's father had been hiding away like some precious gem.
