Chapter 1

I was known as the bad girl in my town.

At eight years old, I pushed my brother Hayden Lynn into a pond just to steal a chicken leg from him.

When I was seventeen, Hayden was badly hurt and given a critical notice.

My parents came to my school, begging me to visit him one last time.

But I was too busy writing a love letter to the boy I liked to even look at them.

When I turned twenty-eight, my company promoted me to work overseas.

Right before I left, my parents grabbed me in front of everyone, crying and yelling, "How can you leave your sick brother and your aging parents behind? Zoe, do you have no heart?"

I shook off their hands and said coldly, "No, I don't."

*****

On the day I was about to go abroad with my boss, Eric Godfrey, my parents suddenly showed up at my workplace and cried in front of me.

Their heart-wrenching cries echoed through the office, instantly drawing all my colleagues' gaze.

My mother, her voice trembling with sobs, cursed me for being ungrateful.

"We spent every penny we had to put her through college," she said. "All our life savings went to her."

"Now that we're getting old and her brother is gravely ill."

"We didn't want to disturb her at work, but... we've reached the end of our rope."

My father stood silently to the side, his hair streaked with gray.

With trembling hands, he raised his work-worn, dirt-stained fingers to wipe away his tears.

Behind them sat my brother Hayden in his wheelchair.

He was in his thirties. Though handsome, his face was pale and gaunt.

He parted his cracked lips and rasped out in a hoarse voice.

"Zoe, I don't want to put you in a tough spot," he said.

"Go if you must. I'll talk to Mom and Dad."

"As for the money, we'd figure it out later."

Gasps and whispers erupted all around.

Even my usually supportive boss Eric gave me a strange look, completely forgetting to stop the gossiping crowd.

I stood clutching the files to my chest, my face a blank mask, watching it all unfold like a detached bystander.

In the end, my parents' hoarse cries and sobs faded into silence, spent from exhaustion.

I finally turned to look at Eric, who was already frowning in displeasure.

"Mr. Godfrey, I don't know these people," I said.

"You ran a background check when you hired me. You know I'm an orphan."

"My parents are dead. I have no siblings."

Eric froze, realization dawning on his face. "Yeah. I do remember that you're an orphan."

Security guards rushed in and forcibly removed Hayden and my parents, who were still sobbing.

I left the office as they were escorted out, then headed next door to deliver the files.

As soon as I stepped out of the office, my mother, looking both disheveled and desperate, spun around and lunged at me. She grabbed my arm with all her strength.

"How can you leave your sick brother and your aging parents behind?" she asked. "Zoe, do you have no heart?"

My mother had just taken a nasty fall, her hands still smeared with dust.

I frowned and shoved her hand away.

Then, I shook my head coldly. "No, I don't."

The security guards dragged them away.

My mother's furious screams echoed through the hallway, lingering for a long time.

"You ungrateful wretch! I should've aborted you when I had the chance. You weren't even worth giving birth to."

My arms started to ache—maybe because the documents I was holding were too heavy.

My hands trembled slightly, and a file slipped to the floor.

My heart gave an inexplicable jolt.

I crouched down to pick up the file.

Suddenly, a heavy thud echoed behind me, snapping me back to reality.

I looked up, just in time to see Hayden collapse from his wheelchair nearby.

He had been diagnosed with brittle bone disease since the age of three.

Though a grown man, he was as fragile as a porcelain doll—one wrong move and he could shatter.

The fall must have been excruciating.

I watched as his body convulsed on the floor—no matter how long he struggled, he just couldn't get up.

His face went from ghostly pale to bright red, beads of cold sweat quickly forming on his forehead.

The security guards didn't know about his condition.

One of them accused Hayden of falling down on purpose to look pitiful, then they pushed my parents into the elevator.

I stepped closer, standing over Hayden and looking down at him.

His face twisted with humiliation, veins bulging at his temples. Gritting his teeth, he spat out, "Get lost."

I watched coldly as he writhed in pain on the floor for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, I bent down and, as if doing him a reluctant favor, helped him up and back into his wheelchair.

Hayden glared at my perfectly healthy legs, his eyes brimming with hatred. "Zoe," he spat, "you won't keep that job for long."

I reached out and dusted off his trouser legs.

Then I rose slowly and said, "I'm leaving this time, and I won't be coming back."

My immigration paperwork was all settled. There was nothing left back home for me to hold on to.

Hayden's hands froze on the wheelchair armrests.

"I won't fight with you anymore," I said calmly.

"From now on, you can have everything you want."

He could have our parents, the house, and everything else all to himself.

I stood alone with Hayden in the hallway, staring down at the swirl of hair on top of his head.

He had harbored bitter resentment toward me for many years.

Yet I still remember once when I was three, standing at the doorstep waiting for him to come home from school.

He limped toward me from the end of the road, opened his schoolbag, and carefully took out a handful of fudge pieces—then stuffed them all into my palm.

Those were the reward his teacher gave him after he got first place in the exam.

But he didn't keep a single one of the five pieces of fudge for himself.

I just couldn't forget that.

I clutched the files tighter to my chest, deliberately averting my gaze from him.

"I won't be coming back anymore. Happy now?"