My whole family had fallen into a trap set by money, but except for me, my parents and sister had walked right into it, willingly. They staged a fake divorce, making me go with Dad. While I was gnawing on instant ramen in a leaky rented room, they were living it up in a mansion with Brooke, feasting on king crab. The fifty-sixth time Dad knocked me out and stole my earnings, a thought, like a message in a chat feed, floated through my mind: "Poor little sis is so pathetic, she still doesn't know her parents' divorce is fake. This is actually a reality show, a live broadcast to test the difference between raising kids with nothing and spoiling them rotten!" "Yeah, for every day sis suffers, her parents and Brooke rake in tens of thousands!" "The lives of the poor are just a game for the rich…" Following the address in the chat feed, I found my family living lavishly in a sprawling villa – turns out, they only ever had one precious princess: Brooke. 1 I froze, staring at my parents and Brooke, dressed in their finest. All my past suspicions instantly confirmed. They hadn't divorced. Our family wasn't bankrupt. Only I had been kept in the dark. Was it because I was quieter, more obedient, that I became the one cast aside? My chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, the pain stealing my breath. The chat feed said it was a live game show, that rich people behind screens were making five-figure incomes daily by watching my suffering and showering them with gifts. Could they really do this to me, all for money? I stood in the sunlight, yet felt a chilling cold, as if plunged into an ice abyss. Just then, my phone chimed. A text from Brooke: "Hey sis, heard you're working to earn your living expenses? So sad. But you're always the most sensible one, I'm sure you'll work hard, right?" Every word dripped with malicious glee. Brooke had always been a sweet-talker, charming everyone. I was introverted, quiet. In middle school, I ranked first in my class, while Brooke was at the bottom. Yet, Mom and Dad blamed me for showing off in front of her. Even then, I knew they played favorites, but I never imagined their favoritism could reach this extreme. "What are you doing?! Look at the time!" A familiar shout yanked me back to reality. I hadn't realized I'd walked all the way to the local market where I worked. After the divorce, Dad had turned to drinking, spending his days either beating me or stealing my money for booze. Being underage, I had to take under-the-table jobs. I numbly took the greasy apron, and only by dawn, clutching my daily wages, did I stumble through the dim alleyways back home. The rented room was dilapidated and damp, paint peeling from the walls, windows cracked. Dad was rarely gone, but I knew he was probably off with Mom and Brooke again. After eating my instant ramen, I lay on the bed, acutely aware of the cameras tucked into every corner. Every tear I shed, every struggle I endured, was being broadcast for others' amusement. Unable to sleep, I used the chat link to access the hidden streaming site. In the most popular live stream, I watched Mom and Dad and Brooke feasting on Australian lobster in a high-end restaurant, the lingering taste of instant ramen still in my mouth. In that moment, I felt like an ugly duckling hiding in the shadows, peeking in on the swan family's bliss. 2 At 9 PM, I walked home clutching my report card—first in my class for the final exams. On the way, I spent two dollars on a simple, old-fashioned sponge cake, no frosting. It was the best reward I could give myself. I carefully placed the cake on the table, broke off a small piece, and put it in my mouth. Its coarse texture was rich with eggy flavor, and suddenly my nose stung with unshed tears. When had I last eaten cake? I'd long forgotten. Just then, the chat feed flickered before my eyes again: "Poor little sis, gets first place and only gets to celebrate with a two-dollar cake." "Brooke's different, though. She gets last place and still gets a fancy dinner with her parents." The comments discussing the gourmet food my parents and Brooke were eating made the cake in my mouth turn to ash. Being alone in the house was too quiet. I couldn't resist opening the live stream website again. Sure enough, in the live stream, my parents and Brooke were feasting at a high-end Japanese restaurant. I saw Mom gently stroking Brooke's head, smiling, telling her that her score didn't matter, just trying her best was enough. I also saw Dad put a large piece of salmon belly in Brooke's bowl, saying that if she wanted, even if her grades were terrible, they'd send her to study abroad. The three of them chatted animatedly, dreaming of Brooke's future abroad. Not a single word about me. It was as if this family didn't have two daughters, but only one, Brooke. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness, quietly closing the live stream. Halfway through my cake, I suddenly heard heavy footsteps outside the door. Dad was back. I had wanted to show him my test scores, a faint smile touching my lips. But the report card was still clutched in my hand, and before I could even offer it, Dad shoved me. "Got any money? Hand it over, I need booze!" I hesitated, timidly, "I… don't have much." Last time, Dad had taken all my earnings from work, leaving me with almost nothing. "You worked and have no money? Who are you kidding?! Go buy it, now!" Dad growled, lifting his leg and kicking me. A bruise immediately bloomed on my calf. I dared not speak another word, stuffed the few crumpled bills into my pocket, and hurried out. I ran to the convenience store, bought the liquor, and then walked back home under the cover of night. "I bought the liquor." Watching him drink, already soused, I gathered my courage. "Dad, my final exam results are out. I got…" Before "first place" could even leave my lips, Dad impatiently roared at me. "What's the point of a girl studying so much? You're just going to get married anyway! Hurry up and graduate, then go work and earn money. Bringing money back to support me—that's what matters!" My eyes widened abruptly, the image from the live stream still echoing in my mind. Mom and Dad had explicitly encouraged Brooke to study, even saying that girls should travel when they're young to broaden their horizons. Why was it, when it came to me, they only said studying was useless for a girl? The report card in my pocket was crumpled, never to be shown. Dad finished his liquor, then, reeking of booze, he stumbled out of the house, knocking over the dining table on his way. The half-eaten cake rolled to the floor, then was mercilessly trampled by his foot. Bang! The door slammed shut, and his footsteps faded into the distance. I stared at the mashed cake on the floor, tears silently streaming down my face. 3 For a long time after that, Dad never came back. I only learned through the live stream that it was because the college entrance exams were approaching, and Brooke wanted Mom and Dad to stay with her. I sat in the damp rented room, my heart feeling as if it had been submerged in ice water, the cold shaking me to my core. On the day of the college entrance exams, I walked to school by myself. Luxury cars whizzed past me on the road. I saw Brooke's beaming face inside one. When the exam ended, as I reached the school gate, I saw Mom and Dad standing there, looking expectant. I instinctively smiled faintly. Just as I was about to approach and speak to them, I saw them raise their arms, waving towards another direction. I followed their gaze and saw Brooke, her face radiant with smiles. My steps, just about to move forward, suddenly halted. I watched, helpless, as the three of them walked away side by side, until they disappeared from sight. The chat feed once again filled my vision. "Brooke really is Mom and Dad's darling, isn't she? Three whole days of pampering during exams, bringing her all sorts of delicious food." "Poor sis, all through her exams she only had plain bread and pickles. No nutrition at all." "Is this all just for the live stream, to torture sis for ratings?" I couldn't help but pull out my phone, open the live stream, and there were Mom and Dad responding to the comments. "This is also to toughen her up, you know. Can't spoil her too much when she's young. So many kids poorer than her make it through, why shouldn't she?" "Once the university acceptance letters come out, we'll let her come home. We won't shortchange her then, don't worry." Watching their replies, a bitter smile touched my lips. They spoke in a condescending tone, saying they wouldn't "shortchange" me, as if I should be eternally grateful for their charity. Why? Did they truly believe that a single sentence could erase six years of suffering and hardship I'd endured? 4 After the college entrance exams, I immediately began searching for more part-time jobs. I didn't know if my parents would give me tuition money, but I knew, with absolute certainty, they didn't love me. The day my exam results were released, I went back to school. Seeing my scores on the computer screen, my teacher beamed. "Willow Hayes, you're first in our school again this time. I knew you'd get into Eastwood!" After saying goodbye to my teacher, I rushed home, eager to dig out the money I'd meticulously saved for tuition. It was all money I had secretly squirreled away from my part-time job earnings. But when I got home, I was greeted by a scene of chaos. The money I'd hidden was gone. Dad lay sprawled on the couch, snoring loudly, clutching a liquor bottle, the air thick with the stench of alcohol. I lost control, grabbing his shirt and shouting, "Dad! Where's my money?!" He stirred awake, displeased, and shoved me, muttering curses under his breath. "What are you yelling at your old man for?! Your money is my money! I raised you, I fed you! What's wrong with me taking some of your money?!" "That was my tuition! I got into Eastwood, I'm going to college!" Dad's eyes bulged, his face turning menacing. "Study what?! You're an adult now! Get out there and work for money! Don't even think about asking me for a dime!" I trembled with rage, tears spilling from my eyes. "No. I'm going to study. If my tuition's gone, I'll just earn it myself again." I threw the words out, firm and resolute, then turned and walked out the door. The sun blazed outside. I instinctively walked towards the local market, where I used to work. But the old vendor wasn't there anymore. The stall was empty. As I pondered where else to find work, someone blocked my path. It was my own sister, Brooke Hayes. She wore a brand-new designer dress and shoes, a sparkling crystal necklace adorning her slender neck. I instinctively glanced down at my own faded, worn T-shirt and sweatpants, then, embarrassed, avoided her gaze. "Sis, I heard you did really well on your exams. Your name's on the honor roll at school. So impressive." She smiled warmly, her voice gentle. "Are you looking for a part-time job here? It's too dirty. I can set you up with a tutoring gig. It's for Mom's friend, so you can trust it." I saw the undisguised concern on her face, and my heart softened, just a little. I hadn't expected that, in this moment, she would be the only one willing to help. 5 The tutoring job was far away, but the pay was excellent. The day I was about to save enough for tuition, on my way home from work, I was stopped by several men. Seeing the thuggish men in front of me, I instinctively took two steps back, clutching my backpack tighter. "Well, well, what a pretty little thing. What are you doing out here alone so late? Wanna grab some late-night food with us, doll?" One of them, a punk with bleached blond hair, whistled, eyes glazed with lust as he approached, reaching out to brush my cheek. "Don't touch me!" I swatted his hand away, trying to break through their circle. But they grabbed my ponytail, and my backpack fell to the ground. They brazenly rifled through my bag, first pulling out my university acceptance letter, then finding the money in a hidden compartment and stuffing it into their pockets. "An Eastwood acceptance letter? A straight-A student, huh? Never tasted a brainy girl before." "Either you come with us for a late-night bite, or we rip up your acceptance letter." He leered at me, his gaze disgusting. "Don't rip it!" I screamed, instinctively reaching for my acceptance letter, but they kicked me to the ground, my clothes tearing with a loud rip. Having never experienced anything like this, my mind went blank. I screamed in protest, curling into a ball. The bleached-blond punk, his face scratched by my nails, tore my acceptance letter to shreds in a fit of rage. "Damn it! You asked for this!" He rummaged in a nearby trash can, pulled out a rusty iron bar, and without hesitation, brought it down on my calf. I screamed, clutching my leg, trembling all over. "Poor sis, she has no idea these thugs were set up by Brooke." "The tutoring job was just a front. Who'd be that nice? Only sis would fall for it." Enduring the searing pain in my leg, the chat comments appearing before my eyes completely shattered my already faltering mind. The part-time job I'd so excitedly accepted was just Brooke's deceptive trap, luring me in. And I, oblivious, had been endlessly grateful to her. The tearing pain in my heart completely overshadowed the physical agony of the beating. "You… were you sent by my sister?" I choked out a mouthful of blood, staring at them, my phone quietly recording. The bleached-blond punk spat at me. "Guess you've got some brains. Who told you to piss her off? This is your lesson. Stay away from her from now on!" After that, another flurry of punches and kicks. After they left, I lay curled on the ground, motionless. Every inch of my body screamed with pain, especially my calf. It was probably broken. Gentle footsteps approached. I slowly opened my eyes, seeing Brooke standing not far away, watching me. I whispered, my voice barely audible, "…Call… call 911." She stared at me for a long moment, unmoving, then slowly a smile curved her lips. She was smiling. A smile that chilled me to the bone. Then she turned and walked away without a backward glance. 6 I don't know how long I lay there on the ground until someone passing by found me. "Are you okay, miss?" The person was startled by my bruised, bloody, pathetic state. Afraid to move me, they immediately called 911. Finally, I was lifted onto a stretcher and taken to the hospital. When I woke up in the hospital, I found my left leg tightly bandaged and in a cast. The doctor told me I had a fractured tibia in my left calf. Fortunately, the displacement wasn't severe, so it could be treated conservatively. I thanked the doctor, then called the police. Since Brooke was so vicious and disregardful of our sisterly bond, there was no reason for me to be soft-hearted any longer. I submitted the audio recording to the police and explained the full story. The police stated they would contact Brooke and my parents, and would quickly apprehend the thugs who assaulted me. That same evening, Mom and Dad appeared in my hospital room, carrying nutritional supplements and fruit. The moment she saw me, Mom put on a pained expression. "Oh, Willow, is your leg okay? Those damn thugs, they hit so hard!" Dad's eyes were red-rimmed, and he shook his head, sighing. "My poor darling daughter, you've suffered so much. If you needed money, you should have told Dad, why go so far to be a tutor?" I watched them, performing their act, completely unmoved. I knew perfectly well they weren't pitying my broken leg; they just wanted me to let Brooke off the hook. Sure enough, after three minutes of feigned concern, they began to reveal their true intentions. "Willow, you and Brooke are sisters. Why must you send your sister to jail? We asked Brooke about this, and she said she had no idea; that thug acted on his own to bother you." "For the sake of family, just give your sister a letter of understanding. She's still young. If she goes to jail, what will our relatives and friends think of her?" "I know you're upset, but if you agree to sign the letter of understanding, we'll immediately take you back to live in the villa. You won't have to worry about tuition or living expenses; Mom will cover everything." I let out a cold laugh. "Didn't know? When I was being beaten, he said it very clearly: he was there to teach me a lesson because I had angered Brooke." Mom and Dad's faces changed instantly. Seeing my unwillingness to cooperate, they began to threaten me. "You don't have money for medical bills now, do you? You even owe the hospital. If you can't pay, you'll be kicked out immediately, won't you?" "Those thugs who beat you once can beat you again. Do you think you'll be so lucky every time?" I looked at their twisted expressions, silent for a moment, then said flatly: "I'll sign the letter of understanding, but I have a condition." Mom eagerly asked, "What condition?" "Tomorrow morning, you'll sign the agreement to terminate parental rights with me." The moment I finished speaking, Mom and Dad exchanged a look and readily agreed. A sarcastic smile touched my lips. Sure enough, they didn't care about me at all; from beginning to end, their only concern was Brooke. The next day, they showed up in my hospital room early. 7 I pulled out the agreement I had prepared, and Mom snatched it, signing her name without even looking. "Alright, it's signed. Now you can write the letter of understanding, right?" Calmly, I produced the letter of understanding I'd written last night. Dad snatched it, beaming, and he and Mom walked out of the room. After they left, I sent yesterday's recording to the police. I opened the live stream. Mom and Dad were broadcasting, boasting about my obedience, while saying they were going to take Brooke on a vacation abroad. They walked up to a luxury car. Brooke, decked in jewels and designer clothes, stepped out, smiling for the camera. Just as they were reveling in their triumph, the police suddenly appeared. "Ms. Hayes, you're involved in a felony assault case. We need you to come down to the station with us."
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "392686", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel