Molly's reckless behavior now was proof enough—her unborn child was destined for a bleak future.
I went upstairs to my grandmother's old room. Everything was still just as she had left it.
At least my father still had a shred of filial piety.
Years ago, when he cheated on my mother, it drove her into depression and turned our home into a battlefield. If not for my grandmother's constant mediation, our family would have crumbled long before.
When my mother passed away, it was my grandmother who took care of me. She was my pillar, the only light in those dark times.
Three years ago, a sudden and tragic accident took her away from me. Shortly afterward, Molly and her mother waltzed into our home with triumph written all over their faces.
It was then I discovered that the little girl who had clung to me for over a decade, calling me "Big Sis Lia," was actually my father’s illegitimate daughter.
Behind our backs, my father had bought them an apartment in a nearby neighborhood. It turned out the late nights he spent away from home was because he had a second family.
I still remember how pathetic it all seemed. Molly, who couldn’t pass her exams, cried her eyes out. I, the fool, volunteered to tutor her at her "home." Her mother praised me endlessly, and I naively called her "pretty auntie," one sweet word after another.
That day, when I returned from her house, I held the candy her mother had given me, excited to share it with my own mom.
But my mother’s reaction was nothing like I expected. She clutched her chest, sat silently on the sofa, and stared at me with anger in her eyes. Then, for the first time ever, she slapped me.
Through my tears, I couldn’t understand her reaction. I cried and accused her of being unfair, unable to grasp why she was so upset.
Now I understand the depth of her despair.
She endured years of betrayal for my sake, a silent sacrifice that left her battling breast cancer and depression until the very end.
Now, with Molly and her mother firmly entrenched in the home that wasn’t theirs, could I truly let them walk away unscathed?
With only a few days left before my departure, why not give them a parting gift?
Clutching my grandmother’s photograph and her treasured tin box, I descended the stairs.
I found Molly nestled in her mother’s arms, the pair of them murmuring sweet nothings.
When they noticed me, my stepmother’s smile vanished, replaced by a sneer.
"Rummaging around up there for so long—I was wondering what treasure you could be after. Turns out it’s just that old woman’s junk box," she taunted.
Her disdainful tone made me pause. Then she added, "Don’t tell me you’re planning to use that as your dowry?"
Hearing what she said, my father shot her a warning look.
"Lia, don’t pay attention to your aunt’s nonsense. You and Molly are both my precious daughters. When you get married, I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure the Brown family respects you."
I gave him a faint smile, still indifferent. "Don’t worry, Dad. Save what little you have left. You might need it to scrape together Molly’s dowry."
The moment the words left my mouth, both my stepmother and Molly’s faces darkened.
My stepmother, teeth clenched, was the first to lash out. Pointing at me, she barked indignantly, "What are you implying, Lia? Your father’s money has been carefully saved for you both! I’ve never spent a penny on myself! Are you accusing me of squandering the family’s wealth?"
Her self-righteousness faltered as she tried to hide the bracelet glinting on her wrist. Her eyes darted nervously.
My father’s brows furrowed. Suspicion flickered in his gaze as he turned toward her.
Sensing the shift, Molly quickly stepped in. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pitifully wiped them away.
"Sis, do you have some misunderstanding about my mom? She’s always been frugal, even refusing to buy herself new clothes."
Watching her sob like delicate as a flower in the rain, I couldn’t help but grab an orange from the table.
"Stop crying. I'm just joking, Molly. Come on, have an orange."
