Chapter 2

"So what if I used your money? My brother needs startup capital for his business. I gave him fifty thousand dollars. What's the problem?"

"Money, money, money—that's all you care about. You spend your days playing a clown on livestream. Have you no shame?"

"Being an influencer isn't impressive! You have zero depth. No wonder your follower count keeps dropping!"

"Let's get divorced. I have nothing left to say to you."

Mom was tearing into Dad.

Dad gripped his phone, knuckles white.

He'd been live streaming until 3 AM last night to clear his inventory. His eyes were bloodshot.

His voice came out hoarse:

"Fine, we'll divorce. But that fifty thousand was my college fund for Emma. You need to get it back."

Mom acted like she'd heard something absurd. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Then they both turned to look at me.

"Emma, you're old enough now. After we divorce, you decide who you want to live with."

Mom tossed the question at me like it weighed nothing. But Dad's eyes were red-rimmed as he gently touched my head.

"This is Dad's fault. I'm sorry you had to see this. It has nothing to do with you."

Watching this scene—identical to my last life—my heart pounded like a drum.

Mom sat primly in a chair surrounded by stacks of old books, her expression arrogant.

Dad anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, dry and brittle from too much dyeing.

In my last life, I thought Mom was calm, wise, cultured.

So I chose her without hesitation.

But after living with her for two years, I understood: Dad's anxiety and frustration? She caused it.

She constantly belittled him.

And her brother? He endlessly demanded money from Dad.

Remembering what happened in my previous life, I threw myself at Dad and grabbed his arm.

"Dad, I'm staying with you."

Dad froze. His eyes instantly grew redder.

Mom just raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a knowing, contemptuous smile.

"Of course. She inherited your inferior genes. Shallow, just like you."

Dad immediately covered my ears with his hands. The gesture was clumsy but careful.

"Since Emma's staying with me, please return that fifty thousand as soon as possible. I'll have a lawyer handle the rest of the assets."

I pulled Dad's hands down and looked up at Mom.

"Someone as above-it-all as you—someone who treats money like dirt—surely doesn't care about a little cash, right? After all, you have your dignity."

Mom's indifferent expression froze for a second before she recovered her haughty composure.

"Fine. I'll leave with nothing. This house reeks of greed anyway. I should have left long ago."

She stood, took only a few thick books from the shelf, packed them in a faded cloth bag, and took nothing else.

Before leaving, she glanced at me—like she was looking at a fallen soul.

"I hope you don't lose yourself in the pursuit of money."

I smiled.

Lose myself?

I hoped that when her brother squeezed every last drop of value from her, she wouldn't regret today's choice.