Then Aunt Mary shut off my phone in front of everyone.

I let out a cold laugh.

"This concerns Leslie’s future, Aunt Mary!"

She burst into laughter.

"Leslie is a top designer! What does her future have to do with a grunt worker like you? You never tell the family what you do. And let’s be honest, isn’t it because your salary is embarrassingly low? You’re too ashamed to talk about it, aren’t you?

"The truth is, we all know—you’re just a regular office drone making three thousand a month. Stop pretending to be busy. It only makes you look ridiculous!"

Sensing my anger, my mom quickly stepped in to mediate. "Don’t say that, Mary. Allison wouldn’t be working on a holiday if it weren’t urgent.

“Please, return her phone. And Ben, plug the internet cable back in—everyone's waiting to use it."

She spoke gently, but that one sentence sent Ben into a meltdown.

He jabbed a finger at my mom and me, stomped his feet, and burst into loud, wailing sobs.

Distressed, Aunt Mary turned on my mom, scolding her for bullying a child.

Seeing Ben cry, Grandma grabbed a pair of scissors and marched toward the router, ready to cut the internet cable.

The room descended into chaos.

I checked the time. Eight minutes left.

Leslie, your job might just be ruined by your mother and brother.

…

Speaking of pretending, no one in our family could put on a better act than Leslie.

She graduated from a vocational college but told the family she had a university degree.

She worked as a designer at a small firm but claimed she was working at a top-100 company, earning 400,000 a year.

One lie always needed countless more to cover it up.

Blinded by pride, she took out a 150,000 loan—despite making only 4,500 a month—just to give the money to her mother as a supposed year-end bonus.

For over a month, Aunt Mary flaunted it in the family group chat, constantly comparing us—praising Leslie while belittling me.

And every time Aunt Mary bragged about her, Leslie would send out monetary tokens in the chat to maintain the illusion of wealth.

She was suffering just to keep up appearances.

But I sympathized with her.

Aunt Mary was very vain and materialistic. She always treated her son better than her daughter. So Leslie had been forced into this charade.

Back when Leslie was still honest, life had been unbearable for her.

One moment remained especially vivid in my memory.

In fifth grade, Leslie scored a 69 on her final exam.

That same year, I scored a 99.

The second Aunt Mary saw her test paper, she didn’t say a word and slapped Leslie twice across the face.

Stunned, humiliated, and too afraid to cry, Leslie just stood there, dazed.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Aunt Mary yanked her by the ear and kicked her relentlessly. She forced Leslie to sit out in the snow, clutching that failed exam paper, and refused to give her food.

Whenever someone passed by, Aunt Mary would humiliate Leslie by telling them that her daughter was worthless and incapable of doing well in her exams.

Leslie had once been an outgoing child, but after years of beatings and verbal abuse, she became withdrawn and sullen.

From that moment on, she learned to alter her grades—bringing home only perfect scores.

With her limited education, Aunt Mary was easy to fool.

The sight of a flawless report card softened her attitude. She even bought gifts and showered Leslie with exaggerated praise in front of others.

Leslie became trapped in her mother’s delusions, convincing herself that she was a genius.

Day after day, year after year, Leslie built a fragile world of self-deception—one so precarious that reality itself became unbearable.

And when she stood before me, the one person who knew the truth, she begged me not to expose her lies.

"If you ever tell anyone," she whispered, "I’ll end my life."

Leslie said that as long as she secured the deal with my company, she could gradually repay the 150,000 loan.

Her boss had promised that after the layoffs, all resources would go to the one employee who remained to groom them for success.

If she made it through, earning 20,000 a month wouldn’t be difficult. Step by step, she could turn her fabricated persona into reality.

But first, she had to survive the cull.

I had wanted to help her, but I hadn’t foreseen this chaos.

Only five minutes remained.

I strode forward, snatched the scissors from Grandma’s hands, and yanked the network cable from Ben’s grip.

“Just five minutes! After that, I’m done!” I said firmly.

Ben wailed even louder as he pointed at me and screamed, “You worthless loser making only 3,000 a month! How dare you take my stuff? I’ll beat you to death!”

Aunt Mary let go of him and watched as he threw a flurry of punches at me.

My dad stepped in to restrain him, but before he could say a word, Aunty Mary lashed out at him, "What do you think you’re doing? He’s just a child! His punches don’t even hurt! It’s nothing more than play-fighting!"

Grandma smacked my arm and then turned to Ben. “Bad Allison! Grandma hit her, see? Don’t cry, don’t cry.”

As she spoke, she struck my back twice more.

Although the blows didn’t hurt much, my parents’ faces darkened.

But wielding her age like a shield, Grandma snapped at my mom.

“What’s that look for? Are you planning to hit your own mother, Jen? Allison is old enough so what’s the big deal about a couple of slaps?

“My precious grandson is crying his eyes out—how are you going to make up for that?”

Aunt Mary smirked triumphantly at my parents.

They weren’t ones to stir up trouble so for the sake of keeping the peace, they let it go.

I plugged in the network cable, ignoring the chaos behind me. There was no time to argue—I had to send the email immediately.

But my business partners had already lost their patience.

One of them was furiously tagging me in our group chat, making it clear that if the proposal wasn’t in by eight o’clock, they wouldn’t even bother looking at it—no matter how brilliant it was.

I understood their frustration. Working overtime during the holidays was already frustrating enough.

With three minutes left, I rushed to send the file. The network lagged a little, but it should have gone through.

Then I hurried to the bathroom.

By the time I returned, the clock had struck eight.

I thought everything was fine. The proposal had been sent in time. Crisis averted.

But when I sat down to check my business partner’s response, my mind went blank.

The proposal hadn’t gone through. It had been recalled.

Seeing nothing in the chat, my partners, now fuming, announced that they wouldn’t review it at all.

Panicking, I tried to resend the file only to find it gone.

I looked up.

There was Ben, grinning at me, his face full of mischief.

I stared at him. “Did you delete the file?”

He stuck out his tongue.

“That’s what you get for being mean to me! Just teaching you a lesson so you know who’s in charge. Hmph!”

…

Aunt Mary’s hostile gaze pierced through me.

“What’s that look for? Are you planning to hit him? He’s just a child! What’s wrong with a kid being a little playful?

“You’re an adult, and you’re holding a grudge against him? How pathetic can you be?”

She scoffed and added coldly, “It’s just a file. So what if it got deleted? What kind of ‘valuable’ documents could someone with your measly salary even have?

“Worst case, you get fired. That’d actually be a blessing—you can finally come home, find a husband, and give your parents some peace of mind.”

I shut my eyes briefly, forcing down the anger.

Turning back to the computer, I quickly messaged Leslie, urging her to resend the file immediately.

Maybe—just maybe—there was still a chance to fix this.

Leslie had not checked her phone and didn’t reply right away.

I panicked and reached out to Aunt Mary, asking for my phone so I could call Leslie.

Holding my phone just out of reach, Aunt Mary walked up to me, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

"So, do you admit you were wrong? If you apologize properly—to me and Ben—I’ll give it back."

"He was the one who messed up! Why should I apologize? Being young doesn’t give him a free pass!" I blurted out.

She let out a mocking laugh, her eyes widening like saucers.

"You sure have a big temper for someone with so little! A useless girl earning a measly sum a month—what right do you have to raise your voice at me? My daughter makes so much more as a top designer!"

Then, as if on cue, she turned her attack on my mom. "Honestly, I never expected you to be such a failure, raising a daughter who’s both incompetent and rude. What a disgrace!"

My mom’s face darkened with anger. "Say whatever you want about me, but don’t insult Allison. She did nothing wrong! You’d do well to watch your mouth."

Aunt Mary sneered. "Why should I? It’s just the truth! Your family is pathetic, isn’t it? Am I wrong?

“You couldn’t even give birth to a son to continue your legacy. And the daughter you raised? She can’t even make real money! She hasn’t got the talent. Tell me, which part am I wrong about?"

She crossed her arms, looking smug. "Unlike you, I raised a daughter who’s a high-earning designer. And I have a son to carry on the family name! My future is set!"

"Enough!" My dad’s voice thundered as he finally lost his temper.

At that moment, Aunt Stella and her husband, Peter Frye who had been silent the whole time, got up and tried to smooth things over.

They held my dad back.

"It’s the new year, let’s not fight," Aunt Stella pleaded.

"Kids make trouble—it’s nothing serious. And you all know how Mary is—she’s just blunt. Don’t take it to heart."

Here we go again.

Every time Aunt Mary humiliated my parents, Aunt Stella always took her side, leaving us to silently swallow our grievances.

Just then a realization hit me—I had been an accomplice in letting my parents suffer.

With that thought, my urgency vanished.

I shrugged, spreading my hands. "If you like the phone so much, keep it. I’m done with this."

Then, I shut down my laptop.

It was a new year—why wasn’t I just enjoying my time, playing cards, and eating a hearty meal?

Why was I bending over backward for something that only brought me frustration and humiliation?

Aunt Mary hadn’t expected my reaction.

It was like throwing a punch into the wind—no resistance, just an empty, unsatisfying impact.

She tilted her head back and yelled, "You think I actually care about your lousy phone? Leslie has money—if I want a phone, I can buy one anytime! I only took yours to help your parents teach you some basic manners!"

Then, as if proving a point, she pulled out her phone and flashed the screen at me.

"Look at this—Leslie’s year-end bonus to me. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars! And you? How much do you have? A few thousand at best?"

Smirking, she turned my phone back on. "Let’s see how much you have in your bank balance. I bet it’s not even three hundred dollars."

The phone lit up, and the first thing that popped up was a message from Leslie:

[Allison, what’s going on? My boss just announced the final decision in the group chat, and my proposal wasn’t even considered!]