At the banquet celebrating the student my father sponsored getting into a prestigious graduate program, my aunt drank too much and let the truth slip.
"It's all because Professor Swanson is capable," she slurred, her voice carrying across the table. "Charlotte was short by nine points, and he still found a way to get her into Yanda University."
I froze, certain my aunt was joking.
"Auntie, my dad is a man of integrity. When I was short by a single point, he refused to pull any strings for me. How could he possibly break the rules for someone else? Charlotte must have gotten in on her own merit."
My disbelief only agitated her more. She shook off her daughter's desperate grip on her sleeve.
"How is it not true? Charlotte scored a 679. Nine points below the cutoff for the math department. Professor Swanson even declared he'd take Charlotte on as his personal graduate student." Her eyes narrowed at me. "Aren't you Professor Swanson's daughter? Why didn't *you* go to Yanda?"
My head turned slowly toward my parents.
My mother's gaze skittered away, guilt written plainly across her face. "Isabella... Charlotte's family situation is difficult. If she didn't get into Yanda, she wouldn't have been able to handle the blow."
"But you?" A sigh. "You won't do. We have to avoid suspicion. People would talk."
The tears came instantly, spilling over no matter how furiously I wiped at them.
"I understand." My voice cracked. "So being your daughter means you can't participate in my future at all."
The chair scraped harshly against the floor as I stood. "Fine. Then I won't be your daughter anymore. That way, you won't have to rack your brains trying to 'avoid suspicion.'"
——
Another second in that room would have suffocated me. I turned on my heel and marched toward the exit.
Two steps. That's all I managed before my father's voice boomed behind me.
"Charlotte will be my student. As my daughter, if you walk out now, you are publicly declaring your dissatisfaction with her! Do you have any idea how that will impact her reputation?"
I stopped.
Looked back at him.
He hadn't heard a single word I said. Or maybe he had, and he simply didn't care. His only concern was that my departure might tarnish the reputation of his precious sponsored student.
My mother rushed over, fingers closing around my arm like a vise. "Leaving in the middle of the banquet? Where are your manners? Today, even if the sky falls, you sit there until this banquet ends!"
Before I could react, relatives swarmed in, pressing me back down into my seat.
The anger I had been suppressing detonated.
I stood, grabbed the edge of the round table, and flipped it.
*CRASH.*
Plates, glasses, expensive dishes—all of it shattered against the floor. The deafening noise silenced the entire hall.
I stared straight at my father.
"She was short by nine points, and you called in every favor to get her into Yanda." My voice shook. "But what about me? I was short by *one point*. Fine, maybe I wasn't skilled enough then. So I worked myself to the bone. I took the graduate entrance exam. I had the highest written score. I was the most outstanding candidate in the interviews. I had the most awards."
One step toward him. Then another.
"But the advisor I chose told me *you* didn't want me at Yanda."
"Tell me—why did you do that to me?"
My composure shattered. Tears streamed down my face, hot and humiliating. I was a mess.
I didn't care.
*Smack.*
The force of the slap snapped my head to the side. My cheek burned.
"This is outrageous!" my father roared. "Apologize to Charlotte immediately!"
Charlotte's mother slapped her thigh, wailing theatrically. "Professor Swanson paid good money for this banquet! Even if you don't care about face, you shouldn't waste food!"
I touched my stinging cheek.
A cold, hollow laugh escaped me.
"My business failed, and I owed money. I asked you for a loan, and you said you didn't have any." I gestured at the ruined banquet. "Turns out, the money was all here."
When I got into school, they refused to hold a celebration, claiming it was "too flashy." Yet for an outsider, they booked eighty-eight tables in our hometown just to keep up appearances.
"Since you care about her so much, let her be your daughter." The words came out ice-cold. "From now on, unless one of us is dying, don't contact me."
I shoved past the stunned relatives and stormed out.
My father's face had turned a dark, bruised purple. He hadn't expected me to humiliate him so publicly.
My phone rang incessantly as I walked away. I couldn't hang up fast enough, so I switched it off completely.
I bought the next flight out. Only when I was safely back in my apartment did I turn my phone on again.
