"Mom, the new boss sexually harassed me. I want to quit."
"Things are tight right now though. Can you lend me some money to get by? I promise I'll pay you back as soon as I find a new job."
Mahjong tiles clattered in the background. Her tone was flat.
"Don't even think about it. No work, no food. I spoiled you too much. Get back out there, keep your eyes on the paycheck, and stop being so sensitive."
"That's just how the workplace is—same everywhere. Men are all horny like that. Since this boss likes you, why not play it smart? Milk it for what you can."
Her mahjong friends laughed, teasing her for being so open-minded. My heart went cold. I swallowed my anger and decided to wait for my year-end bonus before making any moves.
But the night of the company party, my boss got drunk and told me to help him upstairs to rest.
I tried everything to refuse. No one dared to help me.
I carefully helped him into the room. The moment I turned to leave, he pounced—hands everywhere.
I thrashed, desperate, until my fingers found an ashtray. I swung it hard against his skull.
I bolted out the door, shaking so violently I couldn't think straight. I didn't save any evidence.
Days later, he sued me for intentional injury.
No cameras in that room to prove what he did. He hired the best lawyer money could buy and refused to settle.
I stared at my bank balance and called my parents, crying, begging them to lend me money for legal fees.
Before I could finish, Mom's voice shot up.
"What? Thirty thousand? Your dad and I get just over two thousand a month in retirement! Where do you expect us to pull that kind of money from?"
"Did the big city teach you to go bad? Our family can't afford your fancy spending habits!"
I was so panicked I couldn't form words. Then Dad's voice cut through.
"She needs to be cured of this! Thinks she's some rich princess!"
"Starve her for a month. Once she's hungry enough, she'll learn. Don't pay her any attention."
The line went dead. When I called back, I'd already been blocked.
My coworkers were too scared of getting dragged down with me. I had no one. No money for a lawyer. I lost the case fast and got sentenced to a year.
So even with Ryan's high scores, having a sister with a criminal record meant he'd never pass the background check.
How ridiculous.
A year ago, their refusal to spare me a single penny had finally boomeranged right into their precious son.
Aunt Patricia's eyes darted around, and she stepped forward to smooth things over.
"A friend of mine owns a restaurant, and she's been swamped lately. Since Alex doesn't have a job, she could work there for now."
"Big brother, just remember—when we need to ask Ryan for favors down the road, you'll need to return the kindness."
Her scheming was written all over her face, but Mom latched onto her arm gratefully.
"Family really does come through. Alex has been stubborn since she was little. Tell your friend to be patient with her."
But they don't remember—before Ryan was born, my grades were in the top ten of our entire school. Every single year.
Shortly after he was born, my parents said they had to work during the day and couldn't stay up at night. So they told me to step up and be an older sister.
They slept soundly while I mixed formula, patted his back, and coaxed him to sleep. Some nights I got maybe two hours.
Anything at school that cost money—workbooks, field trips—got cut. No matter how much I cried or begged, Dad just hardened his face and said one thing.
"Money's tight. If we can save somewhere, we save. You're the older sister—stop being so immature."
When Ryan wanted to go out and play, they'd pull me out of class. Even if I missed lessons, I still had to wander aimlessly around the apartment complex with him.
