Chapter 3

I was about to call the police, but looking at the front door, I suddenly calmed down. This wasn't a break-in; someone had used a key to enter directly.

And the only person who had the key to my apartment and could do such a thing was just one person.

My heart sank. I tremblingly took out my phone and dialed: "Ava Song, did you come to my house? Did you take my bank card?"

A careless snicker came from the other end of the phone: "Yeah, it was me. Penny Song, you've been such a pushover for so many years, it's about time you were of some use. I've already used your $60,000 to buy scalped tickets. I'm going to see my idol's concert this weekend, third row in the inner circle. It's going to be awesome!"

I gripped my phone tightly: "Do you know how I saved that $60,000? How hard I worked for it?"

"Do you know that $60,000 is my life-saving money for surgery!"

"I know, Mom told me. Otherwise, I wouldn't have known you were hiding so much money, Penny Song. You've got some nerve."

"Also, you're really stupid. All your passwords are Dad's birthday. It's like you're afraid people won't guess it. The old man's been dead for so many years, you should get over it. What, are you still feeling guilty about killing Dad? You're so dumb. Bye!"

Thinking of Dad, I collapsed on the floor. Is this really karma for what happened back then?

If it wasn't for buying me a birthday cake that year, Dad wouldn't have driven out in the heavy rain, and he wouldn't have died in a car accident. I wouldn't have carried this guilt for so many years, enduring the exploitation from Mom and my sister.

Looking at the mess in the room, my heart felt like a sour, soggy bun. Fighting the urge to vomit, I made one last call to Mom, hoping against hope that this wasn't real: "Mom, my $60,000 was taken by my sister to buy concert tickets. Did you tell her about it?"

"You ungrateful girl, are you obsessed with money? She's your sister. What's wrong with using some of your money? Don't be so calculative in a family."

"Didn't you say it was early-stage stomach cancer? I heard early-stage won't kill you, at least you can drag on for eight or ten years. With such a long time, you'll definitely save enough money. What are you panicking about? So useless!"

Hearing this completely unapologetic response, I finally let out a desperate cry: "Mom! Why? Why are you so biased towards my sister? Am I not your daughter? Am I not your flesh and blood? Do you have a heart?"

"In the cold winter, you made me wash clothes with cold water, my hands covered in chilblains, while my sister watched cartoons and ate sweet potatoes in the heated room."

"My clothes were always hand-me-downs that others didn't want, while my sister could buy many new, pretty clothes every month."

"My sister ate meat while sitting, I licked meat scraps while standing."

"I got into a key provincial high school, but you said $8,000 a year was too much and didn't let me go. I ended up in a regular high school, but you spent over $100,000 for my sister to attend a private school."

...

I poured out all the grievances of these years in one breath, each sentence dripping with blood, each word falling with tears.

But what did I get in return? A word of comfort? An apology?

What I got was a "You're crazy, I have to pack your sister's luggage. Don't bother me."

I hung up the phone, silently tidied up the house, and went to the hospital to tell the doctor that the surgery would be postponed for now.

The doctor sighed, telling me to reconsider, and that he would keep my surgery date open.

Grief beyond measure leads to a dead heart. I bid farewell to the doctor like a walking corpse. Just as I walked out of the consultation room, I bumped into someone.

"Penny, is that you!"

I looked up and saw it was Aunt Zhang, my father's former colleague. She used to be close to our family, often visiting and bringing me candy. She was one of the few people who brought joy to my childhood.

However, after my father passed away, my mother moved us, and we hadn't seen her in all these years.

Aunt Zhang noticed my poor condition. Upon learning about my stomach cancer, she angrily said, "How can Gwen be a mother like this? She promised me she would take good care of you sisters, that's why I didn't reveal the truth about your father's death..." She seemed to realize she had said too much and abruptly stopped mid-sentence.

A thunderbolt struck in my mind. I quickly grabbed Aunt Zhang's hand and asked, "Wasn't my father's car accident because he went out to buy me a birthday cake?"

Aunt Zhang looked shocked: "Of course not! That wasn't the reason for your father's accident at all. The real reason was your mother!"

In the subsequent conversation with Aunt Zhang, I finally learned the truth about my father's death in the car accident.

I had been carrying the burden of my father's death for so many years, allowing my mother and sister to exploit me, not daring to decisively rebel. I never imagined it was all a big joke.