Chapter 2

I put the adoption certificate down.

"Yeah. I get it," I said quietly.

Camila's boyfriend let out a cold laugh. "You're just the adopted kid, freeloading off this family for years, and you still want a cut of the money?"

I glanced at him. Mom said Camila was about to get engaged to this guy.

He knew it was me he used to talk to late at night. He knew all the secrets and feelings I shared with him. He'd seen my selfies, heard my voice, and even told me, "You're the most beautiful, the most unique girl I've ever met."

Now he was sitting next to Camila, acting like he already owned the place, looking at me like I was a total stranger.

So gross.

I didn't respond.

I turned and headed to my room.

Even as I walked away, I could still hear them discussing how they'd spend the relocation money on expensive flowers for the engagement party and hire a well-known MC.

Once I closed the door, all their voices were cut off.

The scene I'd been expecting for ages finally happened, just like I knew it would.

Even though I'd rehearsed it in my head a thousand times, my chest still felt tight, and I couldn't find the words to answer.

My phone lit up. It was Lily. [How's the relocation money thing going?'

I typed back. [It's fine.]

She replied instantly. [You can't fool me. Once you're done signing, come find me. I'll be at the café.]

I tossed my phone onto the floor.

From the living room outside my door, I could hear Camila and my parents talking, their voices blurred and distant, like there was a thick wall of glass between us.

I'd never felt so far away from this family.

But there were still three days to go before I had to sign.

Three days later, the real estate company sent someone to deliver the payout.

The whole family was gathered in the living room, with the relocation agreement and a stack of documents laid out on the coffee table.

Camila sat between my parents, while her boyfriend leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, looking like he was just here to watch the show unfold.

I sat at the very edge, as far from everyone as I could get. It's like that spot was made for me—ever since I was a kid, I always ended up there.

The company rep gave a quick explanation, then slid the agreement over to us.

Camila jumped in first. "Our family's a bit different. My sister's adopted, so she has no inheritance rights. Make sure that's written into the agreement."

The rep glanced at me, then looked over at my parents.

Mom kept her head down, her fingers clutching the fabric of her pants. Dad sat up straight, staring at the corner of the coffee table, his face grim.

They all heard what Camila said.

But nobody spoke up or argued back.

I've gotten used to it. Ever since I was five, every time Camila bullied me, ignored me, or pushed me out, they always reacted the same way.

They never said a word, never defended me, never even looked at me.

Just because I wasn't their biological daughter.

They just took it for granted that I didn't deserve anything.

Camila pulled the adoption certificate out of her bag, flipped to the page with the photo, and slapped it down on the table. "Here's the adoption certificate. See for yourself; it's all spelled out clear as day."

The rep took it, glanced at me, and nodded. "Got it."

My eyes rested on the adoption certificate.

The little girl in the photo had single eyelids and a smile just like mine. The name and date were clearly written out.

I stared at that photo, and suddenly remembered asking Mom when I was little, "Why do Camila and I have different eyelids?"

Mom smiled and said, "Your dad and I both have double eyelids—so how come Camila's the only one with single eyelids? But kids' features aren't set yet, maybe it'll change as she grows."

Then she went off to peel an apple for Camila.

That thought shot through my mind like a meteor, but I didn't grab onto it.

Back then, I didn't dare ask anything else. I just thought, since I was adopted, it made sense that I was different.

I picked up the pen from the table.

The rep slid the waiver over to me. "Ms. Sophia Lane, do you confirm that you're voluntarily giving up your share of the relocation money?"

"Yes," I said.

"No one's forcing you, right?" the rep asked.

I glanced at Camila—she gave me a smug little smile. Her boyfriend shot me a raised eyebrow, like he was saying, "Good, you know your place."

I looked at Mom. She finally raised her head, eyes rimmed red, lips trembling as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

I met her gaze for a couple of seconds, then looked away.

Just stop.

Whatever you wanted to say now, it was way too late.

For twenty years, all you did was stay silent. Now you suddenly wanted to speak up? What was the point?'

I lowered my head and signed my name on the waiver.

"I have one last request," I said, putting the pen down. "My share—give it to Mom and Dad for their old age."

Camila froze for a moment, then laughed. Her boyfriend snorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "Wow, so filial."

Mom suddenly covered her mouth, letting out a soft, choked sob. Dad's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white.

They didn't stop me from signing.

They never said anything to comfort me, like, "Even if you're not our biological daughter, you're still our girl."

They didn't say a word.

What I didn't realize was, the moment they nodded all those years ago, there was no turning back.

The lie just kept growing like a snowball for twenty years. They didn't even know how to stop it anymore. They were too scared to even try.

They were afraid Camila would fall apart if she found out the truth, afraid the family would break up, afraid that twenty years of hiding would end up being a joke.

So they kept up their silence.

With their silence hanging in the air, I signed my name.

I stood up.

"I'm leaving," I said.

I didn't say 'Mom' or 'Dad', didn't look at Camila, didn't look at anyone.