Were these really my biological parents? In what world do parents not hope for their own child's success?
"You want to play the saints? Fine, I can't control that." My voice shook with suppressed rage. "But that apartment contains half a lifetime of savings from my grandparents. And the twenty thousand I scraped together working all these years."
That snapped my father's patience.
"What are you trying to imply? You want us to pay you back?" He scoffed. "Can't you act like a big brother for once? Even if you share no blood, Alex and Maya are your siblings in spirit!"
Our hushed argument had begun to draw the attention of nearby guests.
Lily Woodward, Alex's mother, approached us with a wine glass in hand, oblivious to the tension. Overflowing with gratitude, she toasted my father, declaring that without my parents, her son would have nothing.
My father didn't hesitate. He stood up, downed his wine, and beamed. "Maya is a good girl. You must treat her well."
Lily nodded vigorously. "Rest assured, Professor Fox. It is the least we can do."
*Professor.* The title scraped against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
My father had taught for thirty years in the Chinese Department at a local university. I understood the old-school mentality, the obsession with reputation. But time and again, they sacrificed what belonged to me to impress outsiders.
Why?
It had been this way since childhood. They always claimed it was for my own good, but it was nothing more than vanity. They lived for their "face."
"I don't care about your charity projects." My voice cut through the noise of the banquet. "Give me back Grandpa and Grandma's money. Give me back *my* money."
My mother immediately gripped my arm, nails digging in, signaling me to shut up.
"That is the blood and sweat of two generations," I continued, undeterred. "It is not a prop for your ego."
If our family were wealthy, perhaps I wouldn't care. But the truth was, we had barely saved anything over the years.
That apartment represented a million dollars—the total liquidation of assets from three generations of my family. And they handed it over to outsiders with zero blood relation? No matter how I tried to rationalize their "selflessness," the math didn't add up.
My father's face turned a violent shade of red. Humiliated, he lashed out.
*Smack!*