"Noah, you can choose any room you like. Think of it as our way of making it up to you."
My brother wrinkled his nose, glancing distastefully at Felix's overly delicate, floral-themed room. Then he turned and pointed boldly to a spacious, sunlit bedroom at the end of the hall.
"I'll take that one! It's big enough for me and Lenon!"
Sheila nearly screamed. "You've got to be kidding me—that's Mom and Dad's room!"
I smiled sweetly at Aunt Mariz. "Mom, you did say we could pick any room we wanted, right? You're not going back on your word, are you?"
Aunt Mariz's smile twitched, but after a long pause, she nodded reluctantly.
"Wonderful!" I said cheerfully. "We're exhausted from the trip. Mom, Dad, you two should rest early too!"
Then I pulled my brother into our new room and slammed the door shut, leaving the stunned family frozen in the hallway.
From that day on, we began our new life as the Watson family's most unorthodox "young masters."
And over the next week, my brother and I did what any self-respecting newly-rich duo would do—we went on a glorious, unstoppable shopping spree.
Eight years of struggle—and at last, we had the blissful freedom of buying anything without checking the price tag!
We returned home with multiple carloads of shopping bags, dressed like two spoiled heirs from some old-money dynasty.
Every time Felix threw a sour comment about our "wasteful spending," I'd clap back with something sharp enough to slice his ego in half.
When he couldn't win with words, he started playing dirty.
On day one, he pretended to be delicate and "accidentally" dropped a flower vase from the second floor, aiming for us. Noah caught it with one hand, not even blinking.
On the second day, at dinner, he "slipped" and sent a pot of boiling soup flying toward me. Noah flicked it back with the spoon—and it scalded Felix's hand instead.
On the third day, Felix hid his diamond watch under our pillows, then brought the whole family to "catch the thieves." Too bad we pulled up the surveillance footage showing him sneaking into our room.
Cornered, he burst into fake tears and mumbled that it was "just a surprise gift gone wrong."
After that humiliation, he kept his head down for a while. But we both knew that silence meant only one thing—he was plotting.
And sure enough, a month later, during the elite academy's class assembly, he struck.