I wanted to know everything.
The next morning.
I woke to find my parents bustling around the kitchen, making dumplings—chive and egg filling, my childhood favorite.
"Cecilia."
Mom took my hand. "You were right last night. Family shouldn't keep secrets. We shouldn't have hidden this from you."
"We promised to spend the New Year with you, but we can't keep that promise."
"We found work out of town. One month. It'll be enough to cover your tuition."
I looked at her.
The light in my eyes dimmed.
I never expected this.
I'd waited up all night, only to be fed another lie.
I started crying from sheer frustration.
But my parents thought I was moved.
"Don't cry, sweetheart."
Dad reached over and patted my head, then pulled an old phone and a red envelope from his pocket, pressing them into my hands.
"The phone was donated by a charity. The password is your birthday."
"The red envelope—I saved up from working overtime. All night."
He made a point of emphasizing all night.
As if afraid I wouldn't appreciate the sacrifice.
"Cecilia, just bear with things for a little while."
Mom kept crying, putting on a show of how hard it was to leave.
I said nothing.
They didn't even stay to eat the dumplings with me. A phone call came, and they rushed out the door.
Leaving me alone in the cold, empty rental.
I sat down and noticed the red envelope felt wrong. I tore it open.
It wasn't money.
It was a photo of Dad, Mom, and Cynthia.
Behind them: a villa, the ocean, three radiant smiles.
I knew who had put it there.
Cynthia.
My parents only needed to squeeze the envelope once to notice something was off. They hadn't bothered.
I turned to the phone, wondering what else awaited me. I entered my birthday to unlock it.
Inside were photos and videos of Cynthia. Hundreds of them.
Documenting every year since the day my parents adopted her.
Birthday gifts that changed each year—diamonds, designer bags, sports cars, a villa.
Red envelopes stuffed with gold bars, year after year.
Obscene luxury.
Another taunt. Cynthia making sure I understood.
Buzz buzz!
The phone vibrated. An incoming call.
I answered without thinking, and Cynthia's voice poured through.
"Do you know why Mom and Dad aren't spending the holiday with you?"
Blunt. Direct.
I froze, then the answer crystallized.
"They're traveling with you."
Cynthia let out a soft laugh. "So you finally understand where you stand with them."
"Stop dreaming about being some rich family's precious daughter. Stop clinging to my parents like a leech."
"You were oxygen-deprived at birth. Slow. Defective. How could you possibly represent the Henson family? How could you ever compete with me?"
Each word sliced through me like winter wind, chilling me to the bone.
"But... then..."
My voice shook. "Then why did they come back for me? Why would they—"
"Guilt."
Cynthia's laugh turned mocking. "The richer people get, the more they fear karma. Understand?"
"Or maybe it's just pity."
I had no response.
"Keep the phone. Make sure to check the photos on the messaging app. See how much fun we're having."
She hung up.
I staggered backward and collapsed onto the floor. Everything inside me threatened to explode. I wanted to scream.
Instead, I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, forcing it all back down.
Eventually, I dragged myself to my feet.
Without them—
I could survive on my own.
