On the day I was crowned the national college entrance exam champion, the father I’d hardly ever met appeared at our door. He offered four million and an ultimatum: leave my mother and return with him to his family.

I only smiled, then tossed the check onto the floor of the cramped rental apartment that had been our home for more than ten years.

“I’m done being poor with you,” I told my mother. “From now on, just pretend you never had a daughter.”

Watching her tremble and sob left me cold—so cold that I took the initiative to draft a formal document severing all family ties.

But no one knew about the blister pack of painkillers hidden in my pocket, each tablet a silent countdown to the three months I had left.

***

“Mariah. I am your father.”

The man stood before us, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his face carefully maintained. His tone dripped with a condescending charity.

Behind him, his assistant slid a check across the table toward my mom, Quinn. “Four million. Consider it compensation for all these years. From today, Mariah… no, our precious Mariah, will be returning home with Mr. Caleb.”

My mother shook with rage, her face ghostly pale as she moved to shield me. “Caleb, have you lost your mind? You walked out on us sixteen years ago, when Mariah was just four! Now that she’s topped the entire country, you think you can swoop in and claim the prize? Over my dead body!”

Sixteen years. Not a single visit, not a word.

And now here he was, arrogance and money in hand, like some king reclaiming a lost heir from the commoners.

Neighbors had crowded into the doorway, pointing and murmuring.

“So that’s Mariah’s real father? Looks filthy rich.”

“Four million! I’d be grinning in my sleep.”

“Quinn’s too proud for her own good. Turning down a comfortable life…”

Tears glistened in my mother’s eyes, her lips pressed into a bloodless line—her final stand for dignity.

Caleb frowned, clearly irritated by the spectacle. His eyes locked onto mine, voice leaving no room for debate. “You’re a smart girl, Mariah. Come with me, and you’ll attend the best university, secure the brightest future, enter circles you can’t even imagine now. Stay here, and you’ll rot in this rental for the rest of your life. The choice is yours.”

Everyone stared at me, waiting—for the righteous refusal, the curses hurled at a deadbeat dad, the tearful embrace with my mother.

Even Mom watched me, her eyes full of desperate hope and trust.

I smiled.

Under their stunned gazes, I stepped out from behind her and picked up the check.

Then, calmly, I looked at Caleb and said, “Four million isn’t enough.”

The apartment fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.

My mother stared, lips moving without sound.

A flicker of approval crossed Caleb’s eyes. *That’s my girl*, they seemed to say.

With amused interest, he asked, “How much, then?”

I held up four fingers.

“Eight million. Plus a formal severance agreement. My mother signs it, and from that moment, she and I are nothing to you, Caleb. I leave with you. She leaves with the money.”

“Mariah!” My mom’s cry pierced the air, sharp and desolate as a nightingale’s. “Do you even hear what you’re saying? You’d sell your own mother for money?”

The neighbors erupted into a chorus of whispers.

“What an ungrateful viper! Truly untamable!”

“Poor Quinn. She worked herself to the bone to raise a top student, only to have her snatched away by money.”

“All that education, wasted. A heartless creature!”

I ignored their cruel whispers, my gaze cold and fixed on my mother.

“Mom, it’s been sixteen years. Aren’t you tired of living like this? I don’t want to squeeze into this rental anymore, where we can’t even afford to run the AC. I want designer clothes. A luxury car. I want to be someone. He can give me that. You can’t.”

Every word was a knife—plunging into her heart, and just as deeply into my own.

A familiar, sharp cramp twisted in my abdomen. I dug my nails into my palm, using the pain to push back the coppery taste of blood rising in my throat.

I couldn’t vomit. Not now.

In my mother’s eyes, shock flickered, then heartbreak—finally settling into the cold ash of defeat.

She looked at me as if I were a stranger. After a long moment, a bleak, broken smile touched her lips. She picked up the pen and signed the agreement Caleb’s assistant had prepared.

The characters of “Quinn” were scrawled, shaky, soaked in despair.

“Good. Very good.” Caleb smiled with satisfaction, gesturing for another check—eight million.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close as he led me out, like a man parading a prized trophy.

We left the dilapidated apartment building. I slid into the black Bentley. Through the rearview mirror, I took one last look at the place that raised me.

My mother stood alone at the mouth of the stairwell—a statue abandoned by the world.

In that moment, my heart tore in two.

One half bled. The other froze solid.

Mom, I’m sorry.

Forgive me for leaving you in the cruelest way.

Because my life is on a countdown. With this decaying body and the little time I have left, I must pave a clean, bright future for you.

Caleb owes us, Mother. I’ll make him pay back every debt—with blood and interest.

Caleb's mansion was not so much a home as an ice palace.

Everything glittered with a sterile, moneyed sheen—the crystal chandelier, the marble floors, the sweeping staircase—leaving not a trace of warmth.

My "new family" was already waiting in the living room.

Jessica, the lady of the house, wore a Chanel suit and flawless makeup; her gaze, as it swept over me, felt like she was pricing a piece of inventory.

My half-sister Susan, a year younger, resembled a porcelain doll. Her eyes held nothing but naked hostility and contempt.

Then came the twin brothers, Brian and Mark. One fixed me with a defiant glare, the other wore a plastic smile. Neither bothered to hide their resentment toward this sudden "sister" who had crashed into their world.

"Darling, so this is Mariah?" Jessica pasted on a saccharine smile and reached for my hand. "What a lovely girl. From now on, consider this your home. You can call me Aunt Jessica."

I bowed my head, playing the timid, wide-eyed role. "Aunt Jessica."

Susan snorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Dad, where did you even dig her up? She smells like a back alley. Try not to get our rugs dirty, okay?"

Caleb's face darkened. "Susan. That's no way to speak to your sister."

Turning to me, his tone softened noticeably. "Mariah, don't mind her. We've spoiled her rotten. You must be tired—why don't you go upstairs and see your room? I've had the staff prepare some new clothes for you."

Dinner was a tense, silent standoff.

The long dining table was laden with exquisite dishes, but I knew better: this was just another minefield.

Jessica kept piling food onto my plate, her smile gentle and maternal. "Mariah, eat more. You're so thin. You must have had a hard time out there."

I played the overwhelmed simpleton, thanking her profusely between mouthfuls, my head bowed low.

Susan stabbed her fork into her steak; the screech of metal on porcelain grated through the tense silence. "Some people just get lucky. They can wallow in the mud and still land in the penthouse. Not like us, born in the lap of luxury. We wouldn't know dirt if it hit us in the face."

I knew exactly who she meant.

I just looked up, all wide-eyed innocence. "Little sister, what does luxury taste like? Is it good?"

"Pfft!" Brian, the defiant one, couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. He swallowed it quickly under Jessica's sharp glare.

Susan's face flushed a deep, ugly red. She was speechless.