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Chapter 7
“You don’t have the right to be here.” Sherilyn sneered.
I rolled my eyes, pushed past her, and walked in.
Ignoring my father’s fiery glare, I sat down beside the editor.
The editor handed me the contract.
My father’s face went through a kaleidoscope of emotions.
He realized I hadn’t been lying–I really did have business here.
A production company had taken an interest in the rights to my novel. They wanted to adapt it for film and television. The terms had already been mostly settled; I was just here to sign the paperwork.
The editor formally introduced me.
My father stared at me in a daze, as if seeing me for the first time.
No one in business turns down money.
And since his company was offering the highest licensing fee, there was no reason for me to go elsewhere.
After carefully reading through the contract, I signed my name.
Calmly, I shook hands with the other party.
But my father, for once, seemed distracted.
In the underground parking garage, he stopped me.
“Uncle!” Sherilyn called, unwilling to let it go.
He ignored her and told her to head back first.
For the first time ever, he chose to speak to me before her.
His voice was hoarse. “Celine, why didn’t you tell us you’d made a name for yourself as an
author?”
“I always thought-”
I crossed my arms and let out a short, cold laugh. “Thought I was useless? Some piece of trash barely scraping by on three thousand a month?”
“Dad, haven’t I told you before?”
“You just never bothered to actually listen.”
I had achieved financial independence two years ago.
The “three–thousand–a–month” job was something my parents pressured me into so they wouldn’t have to see me “doing nothing at home.”
My editor had arranged it for me as a cover.
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I told them more than once that I wasn’t complacent, that I was a freelancer.
But they never had the patience to hear me out.
“You? How successful could you possibly be? Look at your cousin–top–tier 985 graduate, skilled, now working for a Fortune 500 company. Everyone praises her.”
“I’m embarrassed to even say what you do–it’s nothing but frivolous nonsense. How did I end up with a daughter so disappointing?”
Eventually, I stopped explaining altogether.
Now, my father’s eyes have grown complicated, even tinged with pride.
“I didn’t expect you to be just as good as Sherilyn. You truly are my daughter.” “The room at home is still yours. Stop being stubborn and come back.”
Disgusting.
Utterly disgusting.
At that moment, I realized something pitiful.
My father was a pure realist.
Sherilyn and I were both commodities to him–assets to be evaluated.
Whoever was more “valuable” would get his favor, his warmth.
Now that I had worth in his eyes, he could graciously grant me the chance to come home.
“Why should I have to compete with Sherilyn?”
He looked at me, puzzled.
He didn’t understand–and he didn’t need to anymore.
I stepped around him and walked away, no matter how many times he called after me.
That night, my mother called.
It was the same old script.
“So what if you sold some novel rights? You’re still no match for your cousin, That’s not even a proper job. Unlike her–educated, talented, and well–rounded.”
In the background, Levi’s voice chimed in agreement.
The resentment boiling in me finally wanted an outlet.
I told my mother to hand the phone to him.
“Do you think Mom and Dad love you? Do you feel happy?”
I heard his breathing grew heavier.
Then I tore his illusion apart.
“No. Dad has never once set his eyes on you, his ordinary, unremarkable son. He only loves excellence.”
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He broke down, shouting, turning to demand answers from Mom.
“To be honest, you two aren’t much to brag about yourselves.”
That last line was the killing blow.
Both of them exploded. Then a loud bang sounded–and the phone line went dead.
I happily opened a bottle of red wine.
Any sister–brother bond between Levi and me had already been worn away by years of contempt.
If I had to suffer, he wasn’t getting off easy either.
Word later had it that Levi raised absolute hell at home. At eighteen–an already sensitive age–my tearing the veil from his eyes left him in a state of vengeful rebellion.
The outcome?
Mom was so furious she fainted and ended up in the hospital. Dad slapped Levi hard enough to rupture his eardrum, and my brother ran away from home.
As for the supposed culprit, I had the best night’s sleep in ages.
I was woken by a knock at the door.
When I opened it, Dad stepped inside.
He exhaled heavily, his once–cold tone softened. “Things have gotten to this point, and we all bear some responsibility.”
“Your mother is in the hospital, your brother is missing, and I still have to work–I can’t manage it all.”
“Celine, can you go take care of your mother? She misses you too.”
Ah, so now he was trying the soft approach.
I didn’t indulge him. I pulled out the severance letter from before.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to cut ties with me? Don’t you already have Sherilyn, the ‘daughter in all but blood“?”
“All these years, whenever you or Mom weren’t feeling well, I was the one who went with you to the doctor. Remember last year when Mom was hospitalized? I stayed with her day and night for a whole month. And do you know what she bragged about to the people in the ward?”
“She told them she had a refined, dutiful niece. As for me–the one actually caring for her- there’s not a single word.”
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