But because I was always busy with work, because I wasn't as smooth-tongued as Arnold, in their eyes I was somehow lesser than him in every way.

And now they wanted to strong-arm me into fulfilling this absurd demand.

"Leslie."

Isabel frowned at me.

"Arnold has been devastated ever since my sister passed. All he wants now is a place of his own. Would it kill you to help him? Or do you really want to be the kind of man who breaks his word in front of his own daughter?"

I almost laughed.

"I break my word?"

"I make a hundred thousand dollars a month. Fifty thousand goes to you. Thirty thousand goes to your parents."

"Every household expense, every piece of clothing, every tuition payment for our daughter—that's all me."

"When we got married, I promised you'd never suffer. And I kept that promise."

"But these three rounds of red envelopes have already cost me close to two million dollars."

"I don't have the money to buy Arnold a house!"

I thought hearing all of this might stir something in Isabel and her family. Some flicker of gratitude. Some acknowledgment.

All I saw was their expressions growing colder.

As if everything I'd done was simply expected. Not even worth mentioning.

Arnold rolled his eyes.

"No money? Then borrow some. Aren't you some big-shot project director? Skim a little off the company funds—no one would even notice. Just put it back later."

"Or better yet—when your parents died in that car accident, didn't you get a massive insurance payout?"

My head snapped toward Isabel.

One month ago, my parents had been killed in a car accident. I was the sole beneficiary of their life insurance.

I'd been drowning in grief. I'd planned to set that money aside as an education fund for my daughter.

I'd only ever told one person about that money—and that person was Isabel.

I never expected her to turn around and tell Arnold.

My hands trembled.

Something told me they were hiding more from me.

"That money is for my daughter's education. I will never touch it!"

The color drained from my daughter's face when she heard me.

She tugged hard at my sleeve.

"Dad, I don't have to go to school!"

"But you have to buy Uncle Arnold a house!"

"What nonsense are you talking about?!"

I stared at this girl—the daughter I'd held in the palm of my hand and raised for seventeen years. I couldn't believe those words had come out of her mouth.

But she stepped closer, her voice dropping so low only I could hear.