Chapter 1

When I got married, my parents didn't bother with any wedding gifts. They just handed me an old pendant my grandma no longer wanted, saying their love for me was what mattered most.

But when my sister, Sandra Bennett, got married, Mom went so far as to sell off an entire storefront just to have custom jewelry made for her.

She pulled out all the stops to show Sandra off and make sure she had a grand wedding.

I grew up around my parents, but they were rarely home because of business. By the time I was six, I was already cooking and looking after myself.

Sandra, on the other hand, stayed in our hometown, but our grandparents doted on her, making sure she never had to lift a finger.

My parents always felt bad for not being there for her, and my grandparents just spoiled her rotten.

For my parents' 30th wedding anniversary, I booked the hotel, sorted out all the party arrangements, and played host to all the relatives. By the end of it, I was so worn out I could barely catch my breath.

That night, we gathered around to cut the cake, the room filled with laughter and joy.

When I finally got home, completely wiped out, I saw that the cake I'd ordered had been devoured, not a single slice left.

My mom just casually told me, "Clean this up. We're going to bed."

I snapped, unable to hold it in any longer, "Where's my slice of cake? Did none of you save me any?"

That one question killed the vibe for everyone.

As soon as I said that, Mom's face instantly soured. She shot back, "It's just cake. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

She kept going, tossing a couple more harsh words at me, her face twisted with anger. That shut me right up.

I sat down heavily on the couch, and my eyes fixed on the coffee table, now a chaotic mess after the party.

The cake was long gone. There were just some leftover bits clinging to the box, all broken up and shapeless. Random spoons and candles were scattered around.

I turned to Mom and asked, "Is this really just about a piece of cake?"

Before I even got home, I was still at the hotel, running around making sure everything for the party was in order.

My parents' 50th anniversary fell right around the same time as Sandra's baby's first birthday, so they decided to throw one big party for both.

I had a steady job and made good money, while Sandra had quit her job to be a full-time mom, so she didn't have any income.

So, of course, the job of footing the bill and handling all the arrangements landed on me.

My parents were pros at emotional manipulation. They'd said, first, as their daughter, it was my job to throw them a party to show I cared.

Second, as the baby's aunt, if I paid for everything and did all the work, the kid would remember how good I was to him when he grew up.

Once I agreed, they started piling on the demands.

For example, the hotel had to be top-tier, the kind we'd book for business dinners, because Dad wanted to invite his old business clients.

And the desserts? They had to be not only pretty but also made with healthy ingredients. After Sandra had her baby, she'd made friends with a bunch of other moms, and they'd all be bringing their kids.

If any of those little ones got sick from the food, it'd be a huge embarrassment for Sandra.

It was endless. From the hotel's level of service and the host, to the food ingredients and every last decoration, I was the one stressing over every single detail.

Meanwhile, my parents and Sandra just sat back and did nothing, leaving me to handle it all.

The day the hotel manager called to confirm the final menu, I was totally tied up with work and couldn't get away, so I called Sandra and asked her to check it for me.

But Sandra just hung up, sounding super annoyed. She snapped, "Didn't we agree you'd take care of it? Why are you dumping this on me? Want me to tell Mom and Dad?"

That was her classic move. She's been using that threat on me since we were little, and it never failed.

I could hear what was happening on her end.

"Miss, do you like this nail polish color?" someone asked her.

She was getting her nails done, but she wanted me, who actually had a real job, to take time off just to deal with her kid's birthday party.

Seriously, did that even make sense?

So I tried calling Dad instead.

But I barely got a few words out before my mom snatched the phone from him.

She immediately started in on me, full of attitude. "Sandra isn't in the best of health, so why are you making her run around? It's just checking a menu.

"What, are you so busy running the country that you can't spare a minute? If you don't want to throw this anniversary party for us, just say so. Maybe we should've just never bothered raising you!"

I just shut up, not even bothering to argue.

After wrapping up my work with someone else's favor, I hurried over to the hotel to check the menu myself.

By the time the party finally started, I was playing hostess, making sure every guest was taken care of.

People couldn't stop talking about how grand the whole event was, saying my parents really lucked out with a daughter like me.

Dad mostly kept quiet, puffing on his cigarette and chatting with his old business clients, but I could see that smug satisfaction written all over his face.

Mom, on the other hand, just brushed off the praise. She was too busy cradling Sandra's baby like a precious treasure, parading him around, and telling everyone how adorable her grandson was.

Right in front of all the relatives, Mom personally hung an expensive pendant around her grandson's neck.

One of our relatives piped up, "Sandra is really lucky. Look at that chubby little guy. Your family's just got good luck written all over it. I bet Shirley's gonna have a wonderful kid too someday."

But Mom just scoffed, "Her? She's just not that lucky."

She didn't know that I was standing right behind her when she said that.