Chapter 5 · I Came Home, They Had A New Daughter

I looked at them, feeling nothing but exhaustion.

"I only have a few questions," I said. "Please, answer me honestly. First, when did you adopt Camille?"

My dad paused for a moment before answering, "A year ago."

"A year ago?" I repeated, feeling a sharp pang in my chest.

So, they'd been keeping this secret from me for an entire year.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

My mom hesitated. "We were afraid you'd... get upset."

"Get upset?" I snorted. "Do you really think I haven't been upset enough already? Second," I continued, ignoring my mom's excuse, "Why did you adopt her?"

My dad sighed, repeating what my mom had said earlier, "You're always away, and the house is too empty for us. We were lonely."

"Lonely?" I stared straight into my dad's eyes, enunciating every word. "Did it ever cross your mind that your daughter might be lonely out there, too?

"Every time I call home, you ask if I am doing okay, if I have a boyfriend, or if I am eating well. But you never really care whether I needed a sister to back me up." My voice trembled, but my eyes remained steady.

I pointed at the expensive snacks on the coffee table, the doll in Camille's hands, and all the brand-new stuff in her room. "And where did you get the money to buy them?

"How much of the money I send you every month actually goes to her?"

My parents' faces instantly turned grim.

My mom quickly tried to explain, "Jess, we didn't use your money. All of this is from our own savings."

"Oh, really?" I looked at my mom coldly. "When did your savings suddenly get so hefty?"

I knew my parents too well.

They were ordinary working people, barely scraping by. After paying the mortgage and covering the bills each month, there was never any extra money left.

The money I sent them every month was what helped them make ends meet.

And now they were telling me all this came from their savings.

I felt a wave of nausea. "So, you not only kept it from me that you adopted a daughter, but you also used my money to support her?

"I've been busting my ass out there, scrimping and saving, sending every dollar home, so she could have a better life while I was barely scraping by myself?"

My voice was thick with anger and despair.

My dad slammed his hand on the table, making the snacks on the coffee table jump. "Jessica, do you have to say it like that? She's our daughter, too. What's so wrong about us buying her stuff?"

I stared at my dad's face, twisted with anger. He looked like a stranger to me.

"Daughter?" I sneered. "Then who am I? What am I to you? Your personal ATM? So, your real daughter means less to you than some daughter you adopted, huh?"

Camille's eyes welled up with tears at my words. She clung to my mom's sleeve, like she'd been seriously wronged.

My mom quickly pulled her into her arms, whispering words of comfort.

That scene was like a dull knife, cutting into my heart, over and over.

"Jessica, you've gone too far," my dad shouted, pointing at me, his voice thick with disappointment and anger. "We raised you, worked our asses off to put you through school, and this is how you repay us?

"We just wanted to make the house a little livelier. Did you really have to blow up like this?"

I closed my eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me.

They wanted a lively home, huh?

So, the "lively home" they wanted meant shutting me out, so they could enjoy the company of another daughter, all warm and content, while I was left on the outside looking in.

I opened my eyes back up, my gaze sweeping over my dad, my mom, and finally landing on Camille.

Camille was staring at me, her eyes brimming with tears, as if I were the worst villain in the world.

"Alright," I said, taking a deep breath. "If you all think I'm out of line, then I don't need to explain more."

I pulled an envelope from my bag and placed it on the coffee table.

"There's fifteen thousand dollars in here," I said, my voice calm and flat. "It's yours. Consider it as my way of paying you back for raising me all these years."

My parents were both stunned.

They looked at me like they never saw it coming.

"Jessica, what's that supposed to mean?" my mom asked, her voice shaking.

"It means..." I stood up, my eyes sweeping across the living room before finally settling on my suitcase by the door. "This place doesn't feel like home anymore. I am not coming back."

Chapter 5

I looked at them, feeling nothing but exhaustion.

"I only have a few questions," I said. "Please, answer me honestly. First, when did you adopt Camille?"

My dad paused for a moment before answering, "A year ago."

"A year ago?" I repeated, feeling a sharp pang in my chest.

So, they'd been keeping this secret from me for an entire year.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

My mom hesitated. "We were afraid you'd... get upset."

"Get upset?" I snorted. "Do you really think I haven't been upset enough already? Second," I continued, ignoring my mom's excuse, "Why did you adopt her?"

My dad sighed, repeating what my mom had said earlier, "You're always away, and the house is too empty for us. We were lonely."

"Lonely?" I stared straight into my dad's eyes, enunciating every word. "Did it ever cross your mind that your daughter might be lonely out there, too?

I pointed at the expensive snacks on the coffee table, the doll in Camille's hands, and all the brand-new stuff in her room. "And where did you get the money to buy them?

"How much of the money I send you every month actually goes to her?"

My parents' faces instantly turned grim.

My mom quickly tried to explain, "Jess, we didn't use your money. All of this is from our own savings."

"Oh, really?" I looked at my mom coldly. "When did your savings suddenly get so hefty?"

I knew my parents too well.

They were ordinary working people, barely scraping by. After paying the mortgage and covering the bills each month, there was never any extra money left.

The money I sent them every month was what helped them make ends meet.

And now they were telling me all this came from their savings.

I felt a wave of nausea. "So, you not only kept it from me that you adopted a daughter, but you also used my money to support her?

"I've been busting my ass out there, scrimping and saving, sending every dollar home, so she could have a better life while I was barely scraping by myself?"

My voice was thick with anger and despair.

My dad slammed his hand on the table, making the snacks on the coffee table jump. "Jessica, do you have to say it like that? She's our daughter, too. What's so wrong about us buying her stuff?"

I stared at my dad's face, twisted with anger. He looked like a stranger to me.

"Daughter?" I sneered. "Then who am I? What am I to you? Your personal ATM? So, your real daughter means less to you than some daughter you adopted, huh?"

Camille's eyes welled up with tears at my words. She clung to my mom's sleeve, like she'd been seriously wronged.

My mom quickly pulled her into her arms, whispering words of comfort.

That scene was like a dull knife, cutting into my heart, over and over.

"We just wanted to make the house a little livelier. Did you really have to blow up like this?"

I closed my eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me.

They wanted a lively home, huh?

So, the "lively home" they wanted meant shutting me out, so they could enjoy the company of another daughter, all warm and content, while I was left on the outside looking in.

I opened my eyes back up, my gaze sweeping over my dad, my mom, and finally landing on Camille.

Camille was staring at me, her eyes brimming with tears, as if I were the worst villain in the world.

"Alright," I said, taking a deep breath. "If you all think I'm out of line, then I don't need to explain more."

I pulled an envelope from my bag and placed it on the coffee table.

"There's fifteen thousand dollars in here," I said, my voice calm and flat. "It's yours. Consider it as my way of paying you back for raising me all these years."

My parents were both stunned.

They looked at me like they never saw it coming.

"Jessica, what's that supposed to mean?" my mom asked, her voice shaking.

"It means..." I stood up, my eyes sweeping across the living room before finally settling on my suitcase by the door. "This place doesn't feel like home anymore. I am not coming back."