"Grandma, you're playing favorites!"
"You've got ten million dollars—either pay for your own treatment or don't blame your eldest daughter for being heartless!"
"Exactly! If not her, make your younger daughter pay!"
Mom's eyes reddened.
"Susan's still just a child. How could I ask her for money?"
I let out a cold laugh.
I pushed past Susan and strode out.
I didn't look back.
After leaving the hospital, I headed for my rental apartment.
The Audi I'd saved up to buy five years ago—that was gone too, sold to cover Mom's medical bills.
I stumbled onto the subway in a daze.
My phone buzzed with a message from Mom:
You just left like that? Abandoned your mother alone at the hospital? They're already trying to discharge me.
I was exhausted beyond words:
Don't you have money? Just pay the bill.
Absolutely not! Your sister has so many expenses ahead of her! That money is for her!
Then go home and wait to die.
I never knew I was capable of saying something so vicious.
The moment I hit send, I broke down sobbing.
Everyone on the train turned to stare.
I couldn't bring myself to care.
All these years—I'd lost my job, my savings, my car.
All because of that tiny flicker of hope for a mother-daughter bond. The fantasy that before she died, we might finally mend things between us.
That I could show her I wasn't the bully of a sister that Susan always made me out to be.
That she'd finally see me as her daughter too.
But in the end, none of that seemed to matter to her.
She knew I'd never actually abandon her.
She had nothing to fear.
By the time I got off the subway, my eyes were swollen and raw.
I unlocked my door—and froze.
The apartment was packed with people.
"Uncle? Uncle Chen? Uncle Wei? What are you all—"
I stared at the crowd of relatives in disbelief.
At the center of them sat Mom, weeping.
She clutched her phone tight.
"I never imagined... I raised her all those years, and she tells me to go die!
"She abandoned me and ran off on her own—but not a single day went by that I didn't think about her.
"When she came back to take care of me, I thought she'd finally remembered what family meant. But the moment she heard Susan was getting more of the inheritance, she told me to drop dead.
"How much longer do I even have? She couldn't keep up the act for that long?"
I pulled out my phone.
The family group chat—the one I'd muted ages ago—had 99+ unread messages.
I scrolled up. The very first message was a screenshot Mom had posted.
Our conversation.
Go home and wait to die.
The words burned.
"Trudy Simmons, your father died young! If it weren't for your mother, do you think you'd have survived this long?"
"Apologize to her right now! If we hadn't rushed over, she would've jumped off the building!"
"Trudy, you disappeared for ten years. Your sister stayed by your mother's side—of course she's been there more than you! You don't fulfill your duties as a daughter, but you want a bigger share? How can anyone be this heartless?"
Mom choked back a sob.
"It's fine. It's fine. After all these years, I've made my peace.
"If she doesn't want to call me her mother, that's her choice. I've done everything I could. My own daughter won't take care of me? Fine—I'd rather die than be a burden!"
She stood up, trembling, and lurched toward the window.
Everyone rushed to hold her back.
"Trudy Simmons! Get on your knees! The Simmons family doesn't raise ungrateful wolves like you!"
"If you don't kneel and apologize, don't you ever call yourself a Simmons again! Your father was a good man—don't drag his name through the mud!"
"After you apologize, take your mother back to the hospital and care for her properly. The whole family will be watching!"
