Everyone Worshiped My Brother as a Tech Prodigy, but One Morning My Father Found Out I Had Already Reported His Stolen Work

Then my father’s.

Then Dylan’s again, three sharp sounds in the silence, like nails being driven into a coffin.

Dylan swallowed and looked at me. For the first time in my entire life, the golden boy was not glowing.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please tell me you didn’t send it.”

My father lowered his phone slowly.