A/N: Guess what? It's Monday! Update day! Woo!

Warning: This chapter is long. And contains some physical violence. It's pretty minor. Well, not really.

Thanks to Liz the Sweet Writer, digimon100, Bloodylilcorpse, and Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns for reviewing the last chapter.:)

Enjoy!

The next day passed by. Then a week. Then a month. Life in the house got worse. And worse. Aaand worse.

Noah was continuously shutting himself in his office, the only sounds emanating from under the door being his muttering to himself and the shuffling of many papers. He rarely came out to eat or sleep, so he ordered that food be brought to him. Scott nor Vito knew about about anything to do with housework or cooking. Voot was too dumb to handle the cookware, and anything Scott made was disgusting and unrecognizable as food.

Mike, on the other hand, had learned how to cook from his mother, and understood well enough how to clean. He was posthaste declared the manservant of the house by his stepbrothers, and Noah didn't even try to argue against it. Mike was left to do all the work while Scott and Vito pestered him every day as normal, but it stung more now they thought him beneath them.

Noah still appeared to bear great resentment at Mike(when he did emerge from his office), though as to why, Mike couldn't figure out. He'd sit in his attic contemplating it in the moments he had spare time before rushing out of the house for rehearsal.

It was now the final week before the play would be performed, and the director, Trent, had excitedly claimed he may be able to arrange a performance for some nobility in the capital, if the play was successful. Mike had nearly cried from excitement. That had been a dream of his for a long time, ever since he'd started acting when he was younger.

But one day that week, as Mike took off his apron and readied himself for his second to last rehearsal, beginning to pull off his shirt-

"MIKE! GET DOWN HERE NOW OR I'M COMING UP THERE!" the voice of his now uncharacteristically angry and loud stepfather startled him. He looked down at his clothes, still covered in dust, grime and food splatters. Oh well, he'd change before he left. It's not like anyone important would see him.

He quickly checked his face in a nearby mirror. It was caked with dust that contrasted his tan skin. His hair was dusted as well, and he had put it in a bandana to keep it out of his face.

He hurried down the attic stairs two at a time, stopping his momentum as he gripped the doorway and peered into the second floor hall. No one, though Scott and Vito's door was opened. Mike slowly went down the next set of stairs into the living room.

He was met with a small but intensive congregation. His eyes first spotted Noah, Scott, and Vito standing together. Noah was death-glaring him, and Vito and Scott were poking at each other to pass the time.

A stranger, tall, tan, looking maybe a little younger than Noah, stood opposite. He was holding a suitcase with papers sticking out and wearing a sly grin that suggested he was there to discuss financial matters. And they were not necessarily in the family's favor.

"Mike, this is Alejandro. He works in legal and… financial matters," Noah said bitterly as he darted his eyes between him and Al. "He's here to discuss your mother's will."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mike. I think we will be good friends, si?" Alejandro held out his free hand, smiling sincerely. Mike reluctantly took it and Al gripped his tightly, giving Mike a once-over as he did so, holding back a look of disgust. "You look familiar," Al said suspiciously as he narrowed his eyes. "Do you have a brother?" He said it like he knew the answer, but was making sure of it.

Mike was a little confused. Why would this guy recognize him? He'd never seen him in his life. "..Yes. I do. They're right here." He cringed as he pointed to Scott and Vito.

"No, no, not them. A biological brother." Alejandro clarified.

"Oh. I did…" Mike felt strangely compelled to tell this guy everything. Maybe it was the way Alejandro's blue eyes gave him a feeling of….security. He didn't have to hide anything.

"Did?" Al mimicked.

"He-he disappeared years ago. Haven't heard from him since. He's probably dead." Mike felt a stray tear go down his face. He wiped it off, and looked back up at the older man who still had hold of his hand.

"Hmm. Are you sure he's dead?"

"N-no."

"Good, because he's not."

Mike's eyes widened. "Wh-what? Mal's alive?" Mike couldn't believe it. After six years of desperate and nearly fruitless hope, his brother was ALIVE?

Al grimly nodded. He then spoke like he was secretly eccentric about his next statement. "But, he is near death. I'm here to set all your affairs in order, you see. And maybe get paid back some old debts." He eyed Noah.

Noah scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm going to pay you back, Al. I need this done."

"Can...can I see him?" Mike asked Alejandro. The hope he'd barely held onto for six years of seeing his brother again was rekindled in a near instant.

Al shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It's...complicated, but he can't be seen by anyone. Not even his brother. Deepest apologies." He said it like he didn't really mean it. Like HE was hiding something.

Mike was both confused and suspicious. "Why not? I deserve to see him." He realized he sounded needy, but if Mal was at death's door like Alejandro said, Mike had to see him one more time.

"I understand your desire to see your long lost brother, but he is not stable enough to accept visitors. I'm sorry." Al said with conviction, as if to officially halt the conversation that was clearly going nowhere he wanted it to go. He came to talk money, not family trauma. "Now, back to the matter at hand…" Al opened his suitcase. He shuffled with the papers so he could get them better organized. He handed one to Noah.

"The last will and testament of Kate, mother of Mal and Mike. Wife to…." Al narrowed his eyes at the print and then widened them. He looked up at the family in front of him. "...Noah."

Silence.

Al cleared his throat. "Mike, you get this house, which your mother had full ownership of, and everything in it. You also get her money, which isn't much, but to be used when you first get married, whenever and to whoever that may be." Alejandro looked over the paper again. "Actually, you have partial ownership of the house. Mal owns half, though when he dies, which you know will be very soon, you will assume full ownership."

Mike nodded, though he was confused as to why his father's name was not on the will. Or maybe Alejandro didn't say it, on purpose. But why would he do that?

Suspicions aside, now Mike understood why Noah loathed him so. He could see it in his eyes, the way they clouded with rage yet he showed none of it in his expression. Noah had wanted the house.

"Noah, you get all the books she left for you. You know the ones, it says. Scott and Vito, she didn't leave you anything. Sad, really." Alejandro rolled up the paper. "I believe my job here is finished."

"Indeed, it is. Get out of my house." Noah said through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I believe you mean Mike's house."

Noah took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I am aware of that," he said with a shaky breath, "now get out."

Alejandro smirked, and made his way to the front door. He turned his head back to the family and stared at Noah. "I hope we can.. Continue our earlier conversation about your debts at a later date, sí?"

Noah sneered at Al. "Of course, come running back to discuss more financial matters after you let a bastard seventeen year old and his good-for-nothing brother get a whole house, you eel."

Alejandro looked back at Mike. "I will let you know when Mal's time passes and full ownership reverts to you. Adios." And he left.

Mike turned to go back upstairs to change into clean clothing for rehearsal, which he was now going to be late for, but Noah grabbed his sleeve before he could. Noah yanked him back, and although Mike was taller and more fit than Noah was, it startled him enough that he tripped over himself and was pulled towards Noah. He let go, and Mike fell to the floor, banging his arm as soon as he hit the ground.

"What was that for?" Mike asked, seeing a bruise beginning to form.

Noah had a tear in his eye. He stayed silent for a moment as it dropped, letting the question hang in the air. He then replied bitterly, "Everything." And he pivoted away from his fallen stepson and strode to his office, and, like so many times before, slammed the door behind him.

Mike was beginning to pick himself up off the floor, but Scott power-walked over and pushed him back down as did so. "You little crazy bastard. You don't belong here. You belong in the nuthouse!" he declared as he looked over Mike, smiling like he was king of the world and Mike was just a dirty peasant.

Vito smiled the same way and joined his brother in standing over Mike. They looked at each other, then yanked him off the floor and essentially dragged him outside as he continued to trip over himself.

They forced him towards the wall facing the backyard, and watched him struggle to stand as he tried to contain his sudden momentum. They laughed at his now heavy breathing. He felt pain in his legs, and began to go back to the ground slowly and shakily.

"Ey yo, wussa matter, too weak to stand?" Vito asked Mike in a condescending voice as he pushed him down again. Mike scraped his knee this time around, tearing through the old ankle-height pants he wore when cleaning. It began to bleed a little, as Mike cut his palm open on a rock jutting from the dirt.

Mike grabbed his bleeding hand and looked up at his two stepbrothers. "Why are you guys doing this to me? Why? I haven't done anything to you!" He was now crying. He tore off a piece of his shirt to use as a bandage. The blood quickly seeped through the light blue fabric.

"I don't know, because we can? You're a freak with no real parents or reason to exist? Dad hates you? The list goes on," Scott listed as he counted on his fingers. He smirked and crossed his arms. "And it's fun to see you dirty and on the ground, like the bastard you are."

Mike sniffed. "Look who's talking," He muttered loudly, still trying to stopper his bleeding hand.

Scott frowned.

Vito suppressed laughter at Scott's expense. Scott noticed and looked at his brother. "What's so funny, Vito?"

"Bro, he just burned you bad." Vito stated the obvious.

"So? I'm not the one on the ground bleeding. I'm not the one with no parents. Yeah I never had a mom, but I still have a dad, and a brother. His brother's locked up in some loony bin about to go under, and both his parents are dead." Scott defended, angry and a little teary. "He's nothing more than a worthless servant," He kicked dirt onto Mike, covering him in another layer of filth, "who can't seem to take a hint." And he walked away, expecting Vito to follow suit.

Vito looked back at Mike. He spat at him. "Yeah, you ain't worth the ground you walk on, or whateva he said." And he left to catch up with Scott. Mike could hear their laughter fade back into the house.

He finally was able to get up. He clutched his injured hand as he looked up and realized he wouldn't be able to do anything with his hand like this, much less act or do the chores he was supposed to do. He didn't want to go back into the house, so he decided to go to rehearsal the in the state he was in: bleeding, dirty, tired. He didn't care at that point. Maybe he could get some real medical attention.

In Chris McLean's voice: Is Al telling the truth? Is Mal really alive? Will any of this ever make sense? Answers to these questions and more in the next chapter of MIKE'S...CINDERELLA...STORY!

Reviews are always appreciated!:) See you next Monday, where we go to play rehearsal!