When it was time to head back to college, my stepmother shoved a cheap, off-brand carton of milk into my suitcase. "Take this. Drink it at school." It was a leftover holiday gift from someone else that had been sitting untouched for months. My dad leaned against the doorframe. "I'm not giving you any money this semester. Didn't you make $2,000 working your winter break job? $500 a month for living expenses—that’ll cover you for four months perfectly." "You're an adult now. It's time you learned to be independent." My hand, in the middle of packing my suitcase, froze in mid-air. Nearby, my younger sister, staring at her phone, suddenly screamed in excitement. "Yes! I got the concert tickets!" "Dad, hurry up and book my flights! And I want to stay in a five-star hotel!" My dad wrapped an arm around her, immediately agreeing to everything. My stepmother glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, the large hoop earrings she wore glinting in the light. The three of them huddled together, laughing as they booked flights and hotel rooms. I’ve watched this warm, picture-perfect family scene for ten years, and it still makes it hard to breathe. Suddenly, a notification popped up on my phone. [Chase Bank: Dear Ms. Harper Davis, your Certificate of Deposit ending in 1234 has matured. Principal balance: $800,000. To renew, please reply 1.] 1 A Certificate of Deposit? I silently counted the long string of zeros on the screen. Eight hundred thousand dollars. Assuming it was a scam text, I didn't reply. "Dad, I was planning to use the $2,000 I earned from my winter job to get this mole removed." My dad, Richard, glanced at the pea-sized dark mole near the corner of my mouth. "You go off to college and suddenly you're full of wild ideas! Wasting money on useless vanity!" "You're just like your dead mother—born with bad luck!" My stepmother, Brenda, wearing a thick layer of foundation, batted her heavy fake eyelashes. "Oh, Harper, sweetie. Wait until you graduate college, and I'll personally take you to get it removed." Before, they used to say: Wait until you finish middle school. Wait until you finish high school. Wait until you get into college. Now, the mole is getting bigger, and they've pushed it to: Wait until you graduate college. Actually, before winter break started, I went to a clinic to ask about the price. It only cost $2,000. For my entire winter break, I didn't take a single day off. I worked from open to close at a fast-food chicken joint. Looking at my sister, Mia, happily humming a tune nearby, a knot of suffocating anger swelled in my chest. "Dad, you didn't even blink before buying her a $2,000 VIP concert ticket, but you won't even give me $500 for a month's living expenses." "I'm your biological daughter too!" My dad's face turned beet red with rage. "You think you can lecture your own father in this house?!" "Fine! Since your mother has been dead for ten years anyway, I'll tell you the truth today!" "Mia is my biological daughter with Brenda!" Brenda turned her face away, refusing to look at me. My mom died ten years ago. I am 18 this year; Mia is 14. My dad started messing around with Brenda when I was four. Back then, my mom wasn't sick yet. She was a top-tier CPA at a corporate firm, and she was always incredibly busy. During those years, she would often spend entire days locked in her office. I remember she always had a look of deep, irremovable sorrow on her face. But the moment she saw me, she would automatically erase that sorrow, smile, and pull me into her arms. When I was seven, my mom collapsed. She spent a year lying in a hospital bed. Right before she passed, my dad held her hand. "Evelyn, do you have any savings left under your name? You're leaving, but we still have to survive." My mom was so emaciated her cheeks were hollowed out, her face completely devoid of color. She motioned for my dad to lean in closer, and then she spat right in his face. For all these years, my dad has held a deep, bitter grudge against my mom because of that. With a look of pure disgust, I pulled that cheap carton of milk out of my suitcase. Brenda turned her head back, looking visibly displeased. My dad slammed his hand down on mine. "Brenda was nice enough to pack that for you! How dare you be so ungrateful!" "She specifically told the rest of us not to drink it so she could save it just for you!" I struggled, but he clamped his hand down hard on my forearm. An intense, searing pain shot up my arm, making my scalp tingle. When frying chicken at work, hot oil frequently splashed onto my arms. My forearms were constantly covered in small burn blisters. Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. "Did she save it just for me, or did she give it to me because literally nobody else wanted to drink it?" "If it's such a 'good thing,' you should keep it here for Mia to drink!" Smack. My dad slapped me hard across the face. This wasn't the first time I had been hit. I wiped away my tears and looked at my dad's flushed, angry face. He is 45 years old this year. For all these years, I had clung to a desperate hope—the hope that my dad would eventually treat me a little better. After all, I am his biological child. I am his only flesh-and-blood daughter from his first marriage. I waited for ten years, and he hasn't changed one bit. It turns out, I wasn't his only biological daughter. No wonder. I kept my head down and continued packing my suitcase. The new semester was about to start, and I would finally be able to leave this house. But thinking about the pea-sized mole on my face, a wave of bitter sadness washed over me. I didn't want to deal with people's weird stares anymore. If only I had a sum of money right now. 2 I zipped up my suitcase and went into my room. Closing the door, the very first thing I did was turn on the light. My room doesn't have any windows. If the light is off, it's pitch black. There are five bedrooms in this house. My dad and Brenda share the master suite. Right next to the master suite is Mia's bedroom. Of the other three rooms: one is my dad's private lounge, one is Brenda's walk-in closet, and one is a dedicated room just for Mia's K-pop merchandise and posters. I live in the storage closet under the stairs. I'm not even worthy of the smallest, north-facing bedroom. Brenda pushed the door open a crack. "Harper, I washed some grapes for you. Have some." The grapes on the stem were shriveled and dry. Earlier, I had seen Mia pop one into her mouth, frown, and immediately spit it out. "Ew, so sour! That's disgusting!" The food she likes is never shared with me. The food she throws away is always boxed up with a smile by Brenda and handed to me. The second month after my mom died, my dad moved Brenda into the house. He told me to call her "Mom." I couldn't force the word out of my mouth. Brenda set the grapes down, pulled two crisp $100 bills from her pocket, and handed them to me. "Harper, things are a little tight right now, but take this $200 for now. Use it at school." She had just gotten a new set of acrylic nails. They were blindingly red. I stared at her coldly. "Stop with the fake hypocritical act." My dad snatched the money right out of her hand. "You spoil her too much! That's why she acts like such an entitled brat!" "From today on, she isn't getting a single cent out of this house! Let's see if she still dares to talk back to us!" My dad threw the bunch of grapes onto the floor and stomped on them. "Don't give her anything to eat!" "Let her starve for a day and think about what she's done. Let her realize who the actual masters of this house are!" In high school, my monthly living allowance was $300. When I got to college, it went up to $500. During the first month of my freshman year, I spent $120 of that $500 on the cheapest, unreserved train ticket available. I had $380 left for the month. For the last week of that month, I survived by eating plain bread and pickles every single day. When I asked my dad for the next month's allowance, he screamed at me over the phone. "Asking for money again?! It's barely been a few weeks! Were you born just to drain me dry?!" "It's hard enough for me to make a living, and you're just sitting at school living it up on my dime!" "If you keep wasting money, drop out and go find a job at a factory!" Half a month later, I finally received the $500 he transferred me. I pulled a photo of my mom from under my pillow. As I stared at it, my vision blurred with tears. If only my mom were still here. Everything would be okay. The smell of dinner wafted in from under the door. I heard Mia's excited voice. "Wow, Mom! You made so much good food!" Nobody called me to eat. I was dizzy with hunger. Because I never had money, I was used to being half-starved. Now, whenever I get hungry, my stomach physically aches. Mia spoke between bites. "Mom, your ribs are my absolute favorite! You're the best, Mom!" Brenda's voice was full of laughter. "Eat as much as you want, sweetie." I crouched on the floor, trying to curl myself into the tightest ball possible to lessen the stomach cramps. My phone rang. It was Chase Bank. "Hello, am I speaking with Ms. Harper Davis? The $800,000 Certificate of Deposit you opened with us ten years ago has matured. Would you like to renew it?" "You must have the wrong person. I've never opened a CD. Ten years ago, I was only eight." The voice on the other end continued. "Ten years ago, Ms. Evelyn Davis deposited a principal amount of $800,000 into an account under your name." "May I ask, what is your relationship with Evelyn Davis?" Evelyn Davis. My mom. I gripped my mom's photo tightly, lowering my voice. "Can the money be withdrawn right now?" 3 I tucked my mom's photo into my jacket pocket, grabbed my ID, and walked out the door. Brenda watched me, nudging my dad. "Why are you arguing with the kid? Her biological mother passed away early; it's normal for her to have a bit of a temper." "Harper, come eat. The food is getting cold." I looked at the meager leftovers on the table and shot her a look of pure contempt. "What exactly are you expecting me to eat?" My dad, having eaten his fill, was currently fiddling with his expensive tea set. "There's still food left. You should be grateful you have anything to eat at all. Don't be ungrateful." "Oh, and when you're done, wash the dishes and wipe the table clean." I turned around and walked toward the front door. Behind me, my dad's roaring voice echoed. "You ungrateful brat! Are you trying to climb over my head now?!" "If you think you're so tough, then once you walk out that door, don't ever come back!" Followed by Brenda's slow, measured voice. "Where is she going at this hour?" "Maybe you should go check on her. Kids these days are sensitive. What if she runs away?" "Good riddance if she doesn't come back! She's 18 now anyway. I have zero legal obligation to keep supporting her!" I walked faster, their voices fading into the distance. I arrived at the local Chase Bank branch. The bank teller who assisted me was incredibly polite. She informed me that I had a principal balance of $800,000, and the accumulated interest over ten years was approximately $128,000. Right now, the account ending in 1234 held a grand total of $928,000. I stood there, completely stunned. The teller handed me a sealed package. "Ms. Evelyn Davis left this in a safety deposit box ten years ago. She instructed us to give it to you when you came in." My hands were shaking. Inside was a letter, a key, and a property deed. I unfolded the yellowed piece of paper: To my precious 18-year-old Harper, How are you doing right now? I am so sorry, Mommy couldn't be there to watch you grow up. Before Mommy leaves, you are the only thing I can't bear to let go of. The money in this account and this apartment are Mommy's coming-of-age gifts to you. If you are doing well right now, that's wonderful. This gift is just the icing on the cake. If you are facing hardships right now, don't be afraid. You still have Mommy. Mommy will always protect you from behind the scenes. You probably know about your dad's affairs by now, so I won't mention it. I will love you forever. Mommy. 2016. I read those few short lines over and over again. Without me realizing it, the paper was soaked with tears. My mom had known about my dad and Brenda the entire time. Ten years later, I finally understood the irremovable sorrow that had always lingered on her face. I finally understood why my mom refused to tell my dad how much savings she had before she died. I finally understood why she spat in his face. Now, it all made sense. My mom left everything to me. Ten years ago, she had prepared all of this for me. I tucked the letter into my jacket pocket, keeping it safe right next to her photo. I looked at the $928,000 balance on the account statement. Suddenly, I thought of how my dad had cursed and complained for all these years. After my mom died, he tore the house apart searching for money. But he found absolutely nothing. He took all his hatred for my mom and took it out on me. He even suspected my mom had an affair and gave the money to another man. He slandered her name for ten years. But he was the one who destroyed our family. The scabbed-over burn blisters on my arm itched a little. I scratched them gently. And then, I clenched my fists tight. This money was left to me by my mom. Nobody else was going to touch a single cent of it. 4 It was getting dark. I didn't go back to my dad's house. I typed the address from the property deed into my phone and caught a bus. When I inserted the key into the lock, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and turned it. The moment the door opened, a smart-home system triggered my mom's pre-recorded voice. "Welcome home, my precious Harper." Hearing her voice again after ten years, an overwhelming wave of grief and longing crashed over me. Crying, I walked through the rooms of my new home. Two bedrooms, one living room. The windows were massive, letting in so much natural light that you wouldn't even need to turn on the lights during the day. I stayed there for two days. For those two days, my dad didn't call me a single time. But I saw his posts on Facebook. "Taking my precious daughter to see her idol!" The three of them had concert stickers on their faces, beaming with excitement. When I left, I hadn't taken my keys, but nobody even noticed or cared. Brenda posted a new update on her Instagram. "My ears are ringing from the concert! Finally getting some much-needed rest." The attached video showed a sweeping view of a luxury hotel family suite. Mia's TikTok was also updated. "I finally saw him live! Best night ever!" "Thanks for the support, Dad! Love you!" I clicked onto Mia's profile and scrolled down. January 12th. "New phone! Thanks, Dad!" The photo showed the newest iPhone Pro Max. The screen on the budget Android phone I had used for four years was shattered. Fixing it would cost $30. When I asked my dad for the money, he told me he already gave me my living allowance and to figure it out myself. December 15th. "It's getting freezing outside! Dad bought me a new winter coat!" I searched the brand online. It was a $600 designer puffer jacket. I was wearing a $20 clearance coat. Because I was always cold, my hands were covered in chilblains that still hadn't fully healed. January 1st. "Dad sent me a massive New Year's cash drop! Happy New Year!" November 3rd. "Got so many gifts today! Happy Birthday to me!" I haven't celebrated my birthday since I was eight. Nobody cared enough to remember. October 1st. "Fall Break! Dad took the whole family out for a trip! So crowded but so fun!" During that break, I didn't go home because I couldn't afford the bus ticket. I stayed in my empty dorm room, eating plain bread and pickles for the entire holiday. ... There were plenty of comments under her posts. "So jealous! I wish I had a great dad like that!" I locked my phone screen. I stared at the ceiling of my new apartment for a long time, then threw on my jacket and headed back to my dad's house. When I reached the front door, I ran right into the three of them returning from their trip. My dad immediately started mocking me. "I thought you were so tough? Why did you come crawling back?" Brenda maintained her hypocritical, fake-concerned act. "Harper, where did you go? I was worried sick these past two days." I ignored them and walked straight into my "room." As always, I immediately turned on the light. I started packing up the rest of my belongings. I was planning to take everything that belonged to me and leave for good. I grabbed a duffel bag for my clothes. But I quickly realized that aside from a few worn-out shirts and pants, there was nothing else to pack. A ratty stuffed animal I had held onto since I was six, some ID documents, and a few textbooks. That was it. Those were the only traces of my existence in this house. I pulled my suitcase behind me, keeping my head down as I walked toward the door. I didn't want to look at any of them, and I didn't want to look at this house ever again. Brenda watched me. "Harper, your semester doesn't start for another two days. Why are you leaving today?" I looked up at her. "Aren't you exhausted from pretending all the time?" "Whenever I'm home, you act like my very existence annoys you. Now that I'm leaving, aren't you thrilled?" I saw the flash of genuine disgust in Brenda's eyes, but she quickly covered it up with an awkward, nervous laugh. Before my dad could raise his hand to slap me, I pulled my suitcase out and slammed the door shut behind me. I hadn't taken two steps down the hall when I heard my dad shouting from behind the door. "Wait! Did your mother leave you $800,000?!"
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