It wasn’t to protect me. They didn’t want to acknowledge my existence. They didn’t want the public to know about me.
They had already planned to cast me aside.
But why search for me in the first place?
Maybe they never truly wanted to find me. Maybe the missing daughter campaign was just a ploy to boost their reputation, to paint themselves as a family who valued love and kinship.
With Aunt Zamara's encouragement, I had spent ten years searching for my biological parents. When I finally found them, I thought they loved me, that they had been looking for me all along.
I was so naive. I threw myself into their cold, unfeeling home, only to be met with rejection and cruelty.
It took being battered and broken to realize that I was never meant to be a part of their world.
“Enough,” my father said coldly. “Let’s go. There’s no need to waste any more time here.”
The rich care deeply about appearances. I understood what he meant.
Before leaving, my mother scribbled out a check and casually tossed it on the ground.
The manager eagerly picked it up, thanking her profusely.
Then, as if to complete his task, he dragged me out of the store and delivered one final kick. “Get out of here! And stay far away!”
My face was swollen, and as I stumbled down the street, people stared and pointed at me.
Some even raised their phones, shoving them in my face to record my humiliation.
Covering my face, I ran out of the building.
It was raining outside. Cold droplets struck my battered face, making the pain even worse.
Splash!
A luxury car sped past, drenching me in muddy water.
I didn’t move in time and fell to the side of the road.
As I lay there, I recognized the car—it belonged to my parents.
They drove off, heading back to their opulent mansion, glowing in the distance.
While I was like a drenched stray dog, trudging back to the slums—a filthy, broken-down rental in the poorest part of the city.
That was the cheapest place I could find to live.
At first, I had been so desperate to save money for their ransom that I slept under a bridge. But one night, a homeless man stole all my money. Terrified that the kidnappers would hurt my parents if I couldn’t send the funds, I reluctantly rented a room.
Looking back now, I realized how laughable I was.
I returned to my tiny room, curled up on the bed, and buried my face in the pillow, crying until my chest hurt.