Chapter 3

A scoff of disgust came over the line, followed by her signature passive-aggressive sneer. "Fine! Keep your pennies! It’s not like I’m begging you. If you want me to starve at school, that’s on your conscience."

I knew her game. She was waiting for me to panic, apologize, and wire double the money to soothe her hurt feelings.

She wanted the perks of being pampered without a shred of gratitude.

Standing there, I felt nothing but sheer revulsion for the parasites I used to call family.

"Sounds good," I said flatly. "Let me know when you starve to death."

I hung up without hesitation and blacklisted the number.

A month later, after I closed another major client, Rachel threw a private celebration dinner for our core team at an upscale downtown steakhouse.

I arrived in high spirits, only to freeze at the restaurant entrance.

There stood Brenda and Mia.

The moment they spotted me, their eyes lit up like starved wolves scenting blood, looking ready to rip the designer blazer right off my back.

Mia lunged forward first, screaming loud enough to turn heads across the lobby. "Why did you cut off my money?! Are you trying to starve Mom and me to death?!"

Brenda marched up behind her, putting on an aggrieved performance for the gathering crowd. "Do you know I can sue you for parental abandonment? All over a stupid dog! Are you really going to ruin your own family over an animal?!"

Mia chimed in, "Exactly! A worthless mutt isn't worth more than your own flesh and blood! You are so petty, Chloe!"

Just then, Lucas, a new intern from our department, stepped out of the dining room. He wrinkled his nose and scoffed, "Chloe? Wow. I had no idea you were this kind of person. Guess you really had us all fooled."

I didn't waste a glance on the clout-chasing intern. I locked eyes with Mia. "You have the nerve to say that? You bloodsucking parasite. Let’s see how long you survive without my paycheck."

Mia’s face didn't flinch. Instead, she stepped closer, tugging at my sleeve with that familiar, manipulative sweetness.

"Oh, come on, Chloe! Mom was just stressed out and made a mistake! It was just a little puppy. Come back home with us, and we’ll let you buy an even cuter one. Mom and I already gave our permission..."

A dry laugh ripped from my throat, cutting her off. Her fake smile fractured into rage.

"I need your permission to live my life?"

"Who the hell do you think you are to me?"

Mia pouted, falling back on her baby voice. "You're misunderstanding me, sis! I only meant—"

"Cut the crap, Mia. Save the acting. I’m immune."

Mia’s entitled malice was carefully cultivated by Brenda. Brenda’s golden rule had always been: the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

Mia had mastered that game early on. If threats didn't work, she cried; if tears failed, she played cute. Brenda lavished all her attention, money, and affection on Mia’s whims.

In return, I got neglect, emotional abuse, and endless demands.

Brenda claimed she had an "avoidant attachment style" and didn't know how to love. Yet she seemed perfectly capable of doting on Mia.

The truth was simple: she never gave a damn about me.