Lucius. They'd already picked out his name before he even existed. Lucius, meaning legacy, inheritance, everything the family had would one day be his.
The memories kept flooding back, one after another. My gaze darkened.
Mom must have thought I didn't understand. She took my hand and pressed it against her belly.
"There's a tiny little life growing inside Mommy right now. It might be a brother, or it might be a sister. Aren't you excited?"
Dad walked over and put his arm around her, grinning. "One son is more than enough for me. I'm hoping for a girl, actually. That way our little Desi will have someone to play with."
He'd said that in my last life too. And I'd believed him. I'd gotten so excited that I blurted out how much I wanted a little brother.
But after my brother was born, he despised me. He threw his toys at my head. And the one toy I owned, my only toy, he smashed it to pieces on purpose.
Whenever I went to my parents to complain, they always said the same thing:
"Didn't you say you wanted a little brother to play with? He's still young. He doesn't know any better. You need to be more understanding."