"Is that really what you think of me?"
Growing up, I'd pinched every penny until it screamed. Never bought so much as a piece of candy. After school, I'd rush home to help Mom with chores, trying to lighten her load.
After I started working, I scrimped even harder—never splurged on so much as a bubble tea. The moment my paycheck hit, I'd transfer every cent to her account.
I couldn't fathom why she'd think I'd scheme to get my hands on this demolition payout.
Mom let out a derisive laugh, arms crossed, looking at me sideways.
"Are you saying you're not?"
"All these years, you've been so meek and eager to please. You think I don't see it? You knew I was sick, thought I'd be easy to manipulate. Playing the perfect daughter to squeeze whatever you could out of me."
"You've been calculating since you were a child, always putting on that filial act. Not like your sister—she's simple, genuine, no hidden agenda. Her devotion is real."
Her words hit me like ice water straight to the chest.
So that's how she saw it. My devotion was performance. My sacrifices were manipulation.
While my sister's laziness and entitlement were just... innocence. And her half-hearted "how are you" texts whenever she needed money? Apparently that counted as heartfelt love.
Of course. To someone who doesn't love you, everything you do is wrong.
I didn't bother explaining anymore. Just took a deep breath and kept my voice flat.
"If that's how you feel, then there's nothing left to say."
"The house, the payout—divide it however you want. I don't want any of it. Never did."
My sister scoffed.
"See, Mom? You were right about her. Always putting on an act."
"Our house is worth five million in demolition money. If you weren't sniffing around for your cut, why else would you suddenly show up now?"
Mom looked me up and down with open contempt, nodding along.
"Exactly. Standing there playing the wounded martyr, pretending you don't care—you just want me to feel sorry for you and hand over some cash."
"Let me make this crystal clear: everything I have goes to your sister. Stop dreaming."
Watching the two of them united against a common enemy—me—I couldn't help but laugh.
"Since you're both so terrified I'll take a single cent, let's make it official. Starting today, we're done."
"From now on, I have nothing to do with either of you."
Mom and my sister froze, clearly not expecting me to agree so readily.
But a heartbeat later—as if afraid I'd change my mind—they scrambled to draft a severance letter.
Mom signed her name with a flourish, then shoved the paper at me.
"This was your idea. From now on, you have no claim to anything in this family!"
I signed without hesitation.
"Of course. And from now on, you have no claim to anything of mine."
I'd actually been planning to split my fifty-million-dollar prize with them.
Now? No need.
The ink barely dry, I turned and walked out without looking back.
I hadn't made it far when I nearly collided with my uncle, aunt, and cousin—they lived nearby.
Philip James spotted me first. His lip curled into a sneer.
"Well, well. If it isn't my brilliant college-graduate cousin."
"Heard you landed yourself a decent job after graduation?" He let out a mocking laugh. "Too bad my family's about to cash in on demolition money. Five million! How many lifetimes would you have to work for that?"
Philip had been a dropout and a delinquent for as long as I could remember, always drifting from one scheme to another. He'd never hidden his disdain for anyone who actually studied.
When we were kids, I never understood why he'd team up with my sister to torment me every time he visited—tearing up my homework, hiding my pens.
Now, seeing that smug, untouchable arrogance, it finally clicked.
He'd always known Mom didn't love me. That's why he'd never bothered holding back.
I couldn't be bothered with him. I moved to leave, but Aunt Diane Hale grabbed my arm.
"Corinne. I heard your mother already transferred the house into your sister's name?"
