Chapter 1
My father was a top lawyer at a leading firm. My mother was a tenured professor at a prestigious university.
The day they divorced, my father took my sister, the social butterfly who thrived in high society. My mother took my brother, the so-called "coding prodigy."
As for me? Plain, unremarkable Emily Clark. I was left behind like a piece of forgotten furniture.
Everyone assumed I'd be the biggest failure in the family. But fate had other plans.
When SAT scores came out, my sister's "socialite" image crumbled overnight, and my brother's prized tech project was exposed in a major scandal.
Meanwhile, I scored a perfect 1580, the highest in the state. I was the top scorer.
In an instant, I went from being invisible to being the star everyone wanted.
My father and mother, once cold and indifferent, wore eager, fawning smiles, both reaching out to claim me.
I gently pushed their hands aside. From my bag, I pulled out two legal documents. "You always taught me that people should calculate return on investment.
My voice was soft, yet it struck their hearts like a hammer. "So, here's the deal. Whoever signs this asset transfer agreement gets to be the parent of this top scorer."
*****
My dad, Richard Bennett, was the ace partner at the city's most famous law firm. He could spin anything to his advantage and talk circles around anyone.
My mom, Evelyn Summers, was a literature professor at a top university. Her reputation as a teacher was legendary, cool, and refined in every way.
To everyone else, they were the textbook power couple, the ultimate elite family.
But in their world, I never really belonged, especially after their messy divorce.
Whenever I bit the bullet and asked Evelyn for money, she'd always sound impatient on the phone. "I'm supervising grad students right now. I'm busy. Go ask your dad."
But when I called Richard, he'd always let out a weary sigh. "I'm swamped with trial prep. Go ask your mom."
They kept passing me around like a hot potato, each assuming the other would handle even the bare minimum.
In the end, I was that hot potato, bounced between my parents and left teetering on the edge of hunger.
When things were at their worst, I had only two dollars a day to survive. I'd spend one dollar on four veggie breads: one for breakfast, one for lunch, one for dinner.
If my stomach were still twisting with hunger late at night, I'd eat the last one.
The burning acid in my stomach felt like a swarm of ants gnawing away at my insides. All I could do was curl up in bed and pull the blanket tight around me.
I told myself that if I fell asleep, maybe I wouldn't feel so hungry.
When lunchtime rolled around and my classmates rushed off to the cafeteria, the smell of food drifting down the hallway felt like torture.
I'd lay my head on the desk, pretending I'd stuffed myself at breakfast, while my empty stomach quietly protested.
Of course, every now and then, I'd hit the jackpot.
Maybe their conscience kicked in, or maybe they suddenly remembered they actually had a daughter, but sometimes both of them would send me money at the same time.
On those days, I'd splurge at the pasta shop by the school gate, ordering a four-dollar plate of pasta and telling the owner to pile on the chili.
But those "lucky days" could be counted on one hand, more like a rare handout in my otherwise barren life.
Most of the time, hunger was my only constant companion.
After a week of getting by on nothing but steamed bread and pickles, I was so starved that my vision blurred in class and I nearly passed out.
I tried calling them again, but all I got was the same old brush-off: "I'm busy," and "No time."
In that instant, a kind of clarity I'd never known before washed over me.
In this heartless world, family and love were nothing but fleeting illusions. They could turn sour, fade away, or be forgotten.
The only thing I could really count on was the money right in my hand.
From that day forward, I stopped hoping for fake love or empty affection. All I wanted was cash, piles and piles of it.
I wanted enough money to buy every tasty treat out there, so I'd never have to feel that gnawing hunger ever again.
*****
With eight hours left before the deadline for the "Future Scholars" academic workshop, jointly organized by the city's education bureau and top universities, time was running out.
This workshop was prestigious. Participants could snag recommendation letters from elite professors, giving them a massive advantage in college admissions.
But the registration fee was a jaw-dropping 600 dollars.
No matter how hard I tried, my "busy" parents still hadn't coughed up the cash.
As usual, they were both too busy for me.
But at the very same moment, their social media feeds lit up with updates.
My sister, Chloe Bennett, shared a pic from a charity gala. She was rocking a designer dress, holding a glass of champagne, mingling with the city's big shots.
Richard was right behind her, looking at her with pride and adoration.
The caption read: [Thanks to Dad's support, I successfully raised funds for the charity project. Great people should shoulder more social responsibility.]
Meanwhile, my brother, Lucas Summers, posted a photo of his gold medal from a national youth tech competition, where he'd won first prize for his app project.
Evelyn was standing quietly beside him, holding a plate of sweet pear soup, her gaze so gentle it could melt anyone's heart.
The caption read: [Mom says, after your brain's been working overtime, you need some fuel. This plate of sweet pear soup is my secret to staying inspired.]