Chapter 5

When Marian scored 1200 on the SAT, Ryder and Dora threw a big party, showing off to everyone.

They kept saying, "Marian just barely hit 1200—she might have a hard time picking a good college," but deep down, they were over the moon from all the bragging.

What they didn't know was that in my past life, Marian scored over 1400 with my tutoring—she had her pick of top schools.

For the first time, I saw Dora's face soften into a gentle, kind smile, like her lifelong wish had finally come true and all those years of hard work hadn't been wasted.

Then she deliberately asked me, "Julia, what did you get?"

"I don't know," I said. I hadn't checked yet.

Dora laughed. "You're so vain. Nobody cares if you don't do well."

Marian chimed in, "Just getting into Bronxe High School doesn't mean you'll get into a good college. You're way too proud and full of yourself."

Ryder added, "I've told you before, you should learn from Marian—work hard and be practical."

Right at that moment, some community workers showed up with officials from the education bureau.

The education bureau even brought representatives from Harvard and Yale admissions offices.

"Julia," they announced, "congratulations on your SAT score of 1550. You're the top science scorer in our community."

The room felt frozen again. Several seconds passed before Marian finally screamed, "What? How? She got 1550?

"She must have cheated. You need to investigate, teachers."

Dora was beyond furious too. She said, "She's a nobody, there's no way she could get a score like that. There's definitely something wrong here."

Their outburst almost confused the admissions officers. The community workers whispered something in their ears, and then they understood my situation better.

Their eyes filled with sympathy, and they stopped paying attention to the Hudson family's complaints.

I was the top scorer. The universities gave me a total of 200 thousand dollars in scholarships, and the community helped get me another ten thousand dollars for college expenses.

A full 210 thousand dollars—enough to pay off their mortgage and still have money left over for Marian's fancy lifestyle.

Not only my parents but even Marian's eyes went wide. At that moment, she forgot how much she hated me before.

She only thought about how many fancy meals she could eat, how many princess dresses she could buy, and how much she could boost her idol's album sales with that kind of money.

Marian grabbed Dora's hand. "Mom, sis has 210 thousand dollars."

"Sis?" That word—I could count on one hand how many times in two lifetimes she ever called me that.

Every time Marian said it, she wanted something from me.

Dora, just after yelling at me, couldn't help but slip up and say it. She gave Ryder a hard pinch.

Ryder was already nervous, eyes fixed on the money, rubbing his hands, ready to grab it.

The community worker said, "This money is for Julia, not for you."

Ryder shot back, "I'm her real dad, this money belongs to me."

Someone blurted out, "Isn't Julia an orphan? Where are her parents?"

The neighbors watching were many.

Over the years, they knew better than the community workers what I'd been through in the Hudson household.

Now, they all stepped forward to prove I wasn't related to them.

"Who wouldn't feed their own daughter?"

"Who makes their own daughter sleep on the balcony with a doghouse right beside her?"

"Who refuses to get medicine when their daughter is sick and instead kicks her out, afraid of catching something?"

"Who doesn't want their daughter to go to college and even poisons her before the SAT?"

One voice after another, sharp and clear, scolding the Hudson family.

I stayed calm, even a little amused.

Ryder's face turned bright red with embarrassment, but the temptation of 210 thousand dollars overcame his shame.

"Julia, speak up." Ryder shoved me forward.

With a smile, I asked, "Mr. Hudson, what do you want me to say?"

Ryder replied, "Of course, say you're my daughter."

I smiled and stayed still.

Ryder got furious, veins popping on his forehead, and slapped me hard across the face, trying to force me to obey.

He shouted, "I raised you with my own hard work, and now that you've made something of yourself, you turn your back on me? Even animals know to thank their parents—how come you're worse than an animal?"

I spat out blood, my face cold now.

Silently, I pulled a paper from my pocket. On it were big letters: Court Order.