After My Brother Stole Everything, They All Came Crawling BackChapter 1
My brother was the kind of man who thought himself above the frost and snow. The princess every nobleman in the realm would kill to marry? He found the whole thing beneath him.
He eloped with an actress instead.
Me, though? I was the vulgar one.
After I married the Crown Princess in my brother's place, I spent every waking hour crunching numbers and chasing profit.
In just one year, the Crown Princess's Estate overflowed with gold and jade, its businesses spanning the entire nation.
Even the old gatekeeper ate meat three times a month.
The Crown Princess declared before everyone:
"Meeting Andrew Dickerson was the greatest fortune of my life."
Business was booming. Then my brother came back, alone, with nothing but a worn cloth bundle on his back.
He jabbed a finger at my face:
"A man who reeks of money like you, and you think you deserve to be the princess's consort?
"You've turned this entire estate into a den of greed! Have you given a single thought to the princess's reputation?"
With that, he dropped to his knees before the princess:
"My brother is crude and unworthy. He has tarnished Your Highness's good name! I am willing to take over the household and restore dignity to this estate!"
The Crown Princess looked at my brother's refined, austere face.
Her cheeks flushed.
"Granted."
A divorce decree landed on the table.
I became the laughingstock of Kingsport.
I didn't argue. Didn't make a scene. I packed my things and left like I was told.
So why did they all come begging me to come back?
……
When Crown Princess Rosalind Abbott said "Granted,"
I was caught off guard.
I had rolled up my sleeves and poured myself into running her estate for an entire year.
She had praised me more than once in front of others.
She said I was the greatest fortune of her life.
And now, after one look at my brother's face,
she was ready to hand him everything?
Elmer slid me a sidelong glance, dripping with contempt.
It was always like this.
He had been a prodigy with poetry and literature since childhood.
All I ever knew was arithmetic, the lowly craft of merchants.
Every time he dazzled a room with some effortless verse, he would turn and give me that same look. That quiet, cutting dismissal.
I always assumed he would stay up on that pedestal forever.
But now, staring at his threadbare bundle,
I wasn't so sure.