The Family Photo That Didn’t Have Me In It Chapter 09

The Family Photo That Didn’t Have Me In It Chapter 09

Two years later.

Our northern research team successfully secured global patents for our new compound, effectively breaking the monopoly previously held by international conglomerates.

As one of the core developers, I was invited onto a major national science network for an exclusive prime-time interview.

Sitting in front of the studio cameras in a tailored professional suit, I walked through our experimental timelines with absolute poise.

The host smiled warmly as the segment neared its end. “Dr. Sterling, achieving this level of success at such a young age is historic. Surely your family played a massive role in supporting your journey?”

“Is there anything you’d like to say to them watching from home tonight?”

I met the lens of the main camera, my gaze entirely steady.

“I want to express my deepest gratitude to my mentor, Professor Miller, and every single senior scientist on my team.”

I paused for a fraction of a second. “As for family…”

“I don’t have one.”

“Every step I took to stand on this stage tonight was earned through my own relentless labor and my absolute refusal to back down.”

The program broadcast nationwide during peak evening hours.

—

In a cramped, dilapidated rental apartment on the outskirts of the southern city, Mom was sitting by a folding bed, feeding plain rice porridge to my paralyzed father.

The television set on the counter happened to be tuned to the interview.

The moment my face filled the screen, her hand shook violently, sending the ceramic bowl shattering across the linoleum floor.

“Rowan… that’s our Rowan…” she whispered, covering her face as thick, grimy tears leaked through her fingers.

The next morning, my office phone rang with a number out of the south.

“Is this Rowan Sterling? This is the city general hospital. Your mother was admitted this morning with acute heart failure.”

“The attending physician says her window is closing fast. She keeps repeating your name, asking if you could fly down to see her one last time.”

I sat at my desk, looking down at the multi-million dollar international research contract waiting for my signature.

Outside my window, the snow-capped peaks of the northern mountains met an endless, brilliant sky.

“I’m sorry, you have the wrong person,” I said smoothly.

“My mother passed away a long time ago.”

I ended the call and blocked the hospital exchange completely.

—

Whether the medical emergency was real or another manipulation didn’t matter.

She hadn’t looked back for me when I was burning up in that closet, and I wouldn’t look back for her now.

A week later, a standard paper envelope arrived in my mail slot from the south.

The return address belonged to Julian.

There was no letter inside—only a single photograph.

It showed Julian sitting in a cafe next to a girl who bore an uncanny resemblance to me.

She was wearing the exact style of plain white button-down I used to wear in high school, her hair tied into an identical low ponytail, though her eyes held a sharp, calculating glint that was entirely foreign.

On the back of the print, a single sentence was written in blue ink.

[Rowan, I found your ghost. I spend every single day trying to atone to her, but in the end, she isn’t you.]

I stared at the image, finding the display entirely comical.

Even in his supposed repentance, he needed to hire a cheap proxy to put on a show for himself.

The only thing he actually missed was the version of me he could easily manipulate.

I slid the photograph directly into the electric shredder on my credenza.

—

Before the blades even finished spinning to a halt, my eyes were already back on the next set of lab reports.