It was precisely because of those suitors that I'd spread the rumor about being infertile in the first place.
I smiled. "I'll adopt. As long as they're willing to call me Mom, that's enough."
"Grace Dickerson, don't forget your last name." Mom finally spoke, her expression dark. "Even if you're not sick and can still have kids, your company belongs to Ethan. You can't give it to someone outside the family."
Dad jumped in. "It's the New Year. Don't stir up trouble. Book your flight home, stay there, and reflect on what you've done."
"Do what your brother said. When we get back, you'll hand the company over to Ethan."
My brother's family? A pack of ungrateful wolves. I could handle them.
But my parents' words sent my anger surging. "Why?"
"Aren't I your daughter?"
"The company I built from nothing—why should I hand it to someone who's never worked a day in his life?"
"Because Ethan's last name is Dickerson." Mom glared at me. "That's why."
Ethan shot me a look. "Grandma, I don't think she's convinced."
The moment he finished, Mom grabbed a bowl and hurled it at me.
I didn't dodge fast enough. A gash opened on my forehead.
She acted like she didn't see the blood, just pointed at me and kept going.
"You think making a few bucks makes you special? Without this family's support, you'd be nothing."
Family support?
When I started my business, I took out loans. Back then, when they found out I'd borrowed money, they tried to squeeze me for cash to buy my brother a car.
"If you still acknowledge me as your mother, hand the company to Ethan. Right now."
"This company belongs to my precious grandson. No one else gets it."
I cut her off, my face cold.
"You favored boys over girls. When I was little, you spoiled my brother—I accepted that."
"Grandparents dote on grandchildren. You spoil Ethan—I accepted that too."
"But why should I be the one to give him my company? He's my nephew, not my son. Even if he were my son—if he were this ungrateful—I still wouldn't hand it over."
"Let alone a piece of trash like him."
Smack.
Dad rushed over and slapped me across the face.
"Do you still have any respect for me and your mother?"
"You're just a money-losing waste. Thirty-five and still can't get married—we can't even get a bride price out of you. What's wrong with telling you to give the company to Ethan?"
"And now you're acting wronged? You shameless, embarrassing thing."
"Ethan is young—he needs encouragement. Apologize to him. Right now."
When I was little, no matter who was right or wrong, whenever there was conflict between me and my brother, I was always the one who had to apologize.
I spent years desperate for my parents' approval, trying to change their favoritism.
Even when they refused to let me go to school, I didn't give up. I got my diploma through self-study. I built a business from scratch.
All of it—for approval.
These past few years, as the company grew, I built them a villa. Bought them luxury cars.
I really did believe it was working. That my place in this family had changed.
It wasn't until Ethan grew up that I realized the truth: to my parents, I had always been that money-losing waste.
Now they wanted me to apologize to a junior.
I looked at them for a long moment. Then I turned and walked toward the door.
"Grace Dickerson, you listen to me." Dad's voice was ice behind me. "If you walk out that door, don't ever come back. I don't have an unfilial daughter like you."
My heart went cold.
I have family. But I have always been alone.
A family like this—I can do without.
