Mom's voice carried a self-righteous edge.
"Using the tests to send her away is already the most dignified way to do this."
"She can't pass them herself. She doesn't meet our standards for a child we've raised, and no outsider can say a word about it."
"So now that she doesn't want to test anymore, we might as well just keep her in the facility. Once Susan gets into college and graduates, we'll find her a decent match and marry her off. By then, no matter how hard she tries to make us throw Susan out, we won't have anything to fear."
Dad let out a low grunt.
"If she really wants to blame someone, she can only blame herself for not being good enough."
In that instant, it felt like someone had carved open my chest, and I couldn't even make a sound to match the pain.
So the whole thing—the meritocracy, the family loyalty tests—was never about raising me.
It was only about getting rid of me in a way that looked respectable.
I was stolen when I was five.
The second year my parents couldn't find me, they used their grief as an excuse and adopted a new daughter.
If, when I was ten, the officer hadn't pulled me out of that cellar, I probably would have died in that pitch-black place long ago.
When I first came home, I was happy, too.
I thought I finally had a mom and dad, that I'd never be beaten again, never go hungry again,
that I'd never again have to live in terror of being crippled and dragged out to work like the other children.
But by the third year after I came back, they brought up their so-called merit training program.
At first, when I couldn't beat my adopted sister, I thought it was because I wasn't trying hard enough.
I told myself that during those years trapped in the cellar, I'd missed too much, so of course I couldn't measure up to the sister they'd carefully groomed from childhood.
So I studied with everything I had, chased after her with everything I had, even when the punishments at the facility left me covered in bruises,
telling myself that if I just tried a little harder, next time I'd get to come home.
But now I finally understood.
It wasn't that I couldn't catch up.
It was that from the very beginning, they never wanted me back.
The pain in my chest was like being torn to pieces. I opened my mouth, but I couldn't even force out a single sob.
The light in front of me slowly dimmed.
I finally couldn't hold on, and slid down along the door frame to the floor.
I don't know how long I was out before a basin of cold water was dumped over my head.
The biting cold shocked my eyes open, and I choked into violent coughing.
Mom stood in front of me, the empty basin still in her hand, her face full of displeasure.
"Are you done with the act?"
"You planning to sleep in the bathroom all night so Susan and I feel guilty, is that it?"
I was soaked through, so cold my teeth were chattering.
She only frowned as she looked me over.
"See? You're fine now, aren't you?"
"Quit pretending and get yourself cleaned up. We're leaving. Today is Susan's birthday, and if you dare play half-dead to cause trouble again, your dad and I will send you right back."
I braced myself against the sink and slowly stood, looking at myself in the mirror.
The cold water had brought the swelling on my face down a little,
but my lips were still bruised blue, and the skin under my eyes had an unnatural gray pallor.
No matter how you looked at it, I didn't seem fine.
But Mom acted as if she saw none of it.
I lowered my head and fished out of my pocket the old phone Aunt Delia had secretly slipped me.
I opened Aunt Delia's profile and sent her a single message.
【Aunt Delia, I can't stay here anymore. Please, come take me away today.】
The moment the message went out, Dad's impatient nagging came from beyond the door.
"What's taking so long? Susan's waiting to celebrate her birthday at the amusement park."
Mom's voice went cold as well: "Don't think faking sick will get you out of it. It's your sister's birthday. Don't ruin the mood."
I pushed the door open and stepped out. The second I reached the entryway, I saw Julian Harding from next door coming in with a gift box in his hands.
