"Wanning, your father died young, but your brother and I never treated you unfairly. If there was anything good to be had, you got it first. Do you think we spoiled you for no reason? We hoped that once you grew up, you'd be reasonable. That you'd care about this family and step up to help your brother."

Her tone hardened.

"Look at how much Raymond and Diana are struggling. The mortgage, the car loan, the baby on the way—everything costs money. You have the means now. As his sister, shouldn't you help? You're not a child anymore. It's time you understood how the world works. You can't always think about taking. You have to give, too."

I stared at her, the air leaving my lungs.

Deep inside, something fragile finally snapped.

So that was it. The favoritism, the affection—all fake. Every ounce of kindness came with a hidden price tag.

I wasn't a daughter. I was an investment. An outsider to be harvested.

Looking at the family I had once cherished above all else, I felt a bitter laugh building in my chest. The whole situation was absurd.

But I didn't laugh. I didn't argue.

Instead, I nodded calmly. "You're right."

I pulled out my phone and transferred ten thousand dollars to Diana right there.

Her phone chimed. When she saw the notification, her grin nearly split her face. She latched onto Raymond's arm.

"See, Hubby? I told you Wanning wouldn't fuss! Now our travel budget is even bigger!"

Raymond looked at me with smug satisfaction. "Glad you're finally being sensible. Makes me proud."

Margaret nodded, smiling. "Exactly. We didn't raise you in vain."

She stepped forward, reaching for my hand. "Stay for dinner. Mom will make your favorite sweet-and-sour ribs."

I sidestepped her touch. "No."

I'm not paying a thousand dollars for a meal ever again.

She opened her mouth to protest, but I didn't wait. I yanked the door open and stepped into the hall.

As it clicked shut, Diana's voice drifted through the thin wood.

"Mom, were you really going to feed her? What if she didn't pay? We'd be out the cost of groceries."

Margaret's reply came muffled but clear. "I know Wanning. She's sensible. She wouldn't let us lose money."

So this was my home. Even a single meal was a calculated risk.

A bitter smile twisted my lips as I walked downstairs without looking back.

Back in my cramped rental, I collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Memories flooded in, unbidden.