Chapter 2

Money wasn't a problem for the Carters, and Richard could have kept me if he wanted to. But he was no longer the father who doted on me.

Once, he'd been proud of me. I'd won every award growing up, and I was the brightest kid in his entire circle. The smarter I was, the more it proved how strong his bloodline was.

But now I was revealed to be someone else's child. And the daughter who actually carried his genes, Rachel, had a terrible temper, no discipline, didn't finish high school, smoked, drank, and got into fights. She was a walking disaster.

The more I excelled, the worse Rachel looked by comparison. And so, I became his shame.

In the end, he still looked at me and said, "If you can't stay with the Harrises, just come home."

When I left, Grace hugged me and cried all over again. "Emily, just bear with it for a few days. Once Rachel calms down, I'll bring you back, I promise."

I nodded. I didn't cry, didn't make a scene—just followed the Harris family back to their house.

I didn't take anything valuable with me, only the books I needed for school.

Since the Harris men hadn't squeezed any money out of the Carters, they naturally turned their anger on me.

The moment we stepped inside and the door closed, my older brother Tom kicked me straight to the floor.

John grabbed a stick as thick as his arm and swung it at me without hesitation.

Melissa stood there crying, begging them to stop, but she didn't dare step forward.

Back then, they'd been the same—beating me day and night, barely giving me anything to eat, all just to force me back to the Carter family.

I hadn't lasted a week. Covered in bruises, I crawled back.

They took the chance to show up demanding money. Richard and Grace had no choice but to hand over 100 thousand dollars just to get rid of them. And once they got the first 100 thousand, there was a second, then a third...

As for me, I became a true stray—tail tucked, begging for scraps—supposedly owing Rachel and owing the Carter family, never able to lift my head again.

This time, I took a few blows and dodged my way into the kitchen, finally getting my hands on a weapon.

Snatching up a cleaver, I tackled Tom to the floor, holding the blade right to his throat. "You want me dead? I don't mind dragging you down with me."

Tom shook, too terrified to even scream.

Melissa was so shocked she couldn't even cry anymore. "Emily, he's your brother. He is my only son."

Brother? What a joke. He was nothing but a beast.

Funny enough, now Melissa suddenly had the courage to snatch the stick out of John's hands. "Stop! Be careful—if you push Emily too far, she might really kill our son."

To John and Melissa, their son meant more than anything.

John finally backed down. "You little bastard, let Tom go!"

I took my chance to name my terms. "Agree to three conditions, and I'll let him go. First, I get to stay in school. Second, you don't beat or curse me. If you do, I'll go down swinging—we can all die together. Third, you don't get to sell me for money. If you try, I won't mind taking all of you with me before I die."

These three conditions were simple, but they completely cut off the Harris men's chance to make money off me.

I knew even if they agreed now, they'd go right back to their old tricks sooner or later. So I reminded them kindly, "I'm one of the top students in the honors track at Westview High. Do you know what that means? Out of 30 students, the top ten usually get into Ivy League schools, and the rest end up in good state universities."

"What? You still want to go to college?" John shouted, as if I were dreaming above my station.

I said, "Let me do the math for you. Even if you sold me for a good price right now, what would it be? Three hundred grand at most. And what would that get you? Not even a decent house. Even if you pinched every penny, it wouldn't last long.

"But if I get an education and land a job that pays six figures, then you'll have a golden goose for years to come."

John's eyes lit up the moment he heard that.

I warned him at the same time, "But if anything happens to me before then, all you'll get is a corpse. You better think this through."

I shoved Tom aside, and he scrambled up. The moment he found his balance, he tried to kick me again, but this time John stopped him.

Tom shouted, "Dad! That bitch almost killed me. I'm going to kill her."

John held him back, his eyes darting with calculation. "But you know how broke we are. We don't have the money to send you to school."

"I'll earn the tuition fee myself," I said.

John rubbed his hands together, thinking it over. In the end, he agreed.

Tom wanted to say more, but John dragged him out of the room. Right before he left, the look in his eyes told me he'd come for payback sooner or later.

As soon as they were gone, I bought myself a six-inch fruit knife. I carried it on me during the day, and at night I slept with it under my pillow. I never loosened my grip on the handle.

One night, John went out drinking and still hadn't come back by dawn. Melissa went out to look for him, and Tom slipped quietly into my room.

He hissed, "You little bitch—daring to lay a hand on me? I'll sell you off right now."

He had a burlap sack ready, planning to drag me away by force. I swung my knife and slashed his arm before he could grab me. He let out a scream.

I lunged again and drove the blade straight down toward his head. The tip of the knife sank into the old wooden floor, the edge stopping less than an inch from his temple. The strike scraped a piece off the top of his ear.

The color drained from Tom's face, and the sharp stink of blood and fear filled the cramped, rundown room.

After that, Tom never dared to lay a hand on me again.

But because I injured Tom, John kicked me out of the house in a fit of rage.

John wasn't worried I'd run away—he knew I'd have to come back just to keep going to school.