I simply looked at Tommy. Sturdy, round-faced, glowing with health—a stark contrast to my pale, shivering son.
A flicker of smugness passed through Brooklyn's eyes. She patted her son's head, effortlessly assuming the air of the hostess.
"Tommy, be a good boy. Share the toys Dad Farley bought with your little brother."
Tommy clutched the two identical toy cars to his chest and threw himself onto the floor, kicking and wailing.
"No! Dad Farley bought these for me! They're mine!"
Brooklyn feigned a scolding tone, looking at me with practiced helplessness. "I'm so sorry, Ava. Justin spoils him terribly..."
Instinctively, I looked at Carter. In the past, this was when he would cry, hurt by the injustice.
But now, his expression was eerily calm.
"Carter doesn't want them," he said flatly. "Leave them for Big Brother."
Pain sliced through my heart. He had learned the hardest lesson too young: an unloved child has no use for tears.
A flash of guilt crossed Justin's face. He stepped toward me as if to offer a hug.
I turned sideways, grabbing a cloth to wipe the table, neatly dodging his touch.
The guilt in his eyes hardened into displeasure.