Chapter 2
I stared at those two photos for what felt like forever.
It was like an invisible hand was squeezing my heart, and a suffocating ache spread from my chest all the way up to my throat.
So, they weren't really busy. They were busy tending to their precious flowers and exotic trees.
And I was always the forgotten patch of weeds nobody cared about.
It was exactly the same feeling as the day my parents got divorced.
In that cold courtroom, the judge went through the motions, asking about custody.
My dad blurted out, "Chloe has to stay with me. I built her network and social circle from scratch. Only with me can she make it in high society. That's her real fortune."
He looked at Chloe, his eyes full of obvious expectation.
My mom jumped in right away, "Lucas's programming talent is once-in-a-century. He needs absolute quiet and top-of-the-line equipment. He belongs with me."
She stroked Lucas's hair, her touch full of affection.
The judge glanced down at the files, frowning slightly. "The records show you have another daughter."
The air froze.
The look on their faces was like they'd remembered some dusty old thing they'd left behind at home and never thought about. "Oh, right, there's Emily, too."
Then came the predictable excuses.
"I've already got Chloe. I don't have the energy for two kids. It's too much," my dad said first.
"She's your family's daughter, so she should take your last name," my mom snapped, her voice sharp.
"Emily's shy, and she's a girl. Wouldn't it make more sense for her to stay with you, since you're her mom?" my dad said.
"I've got several PhD students under me, always prepping lectures and running meetings. How am I supposed to manage two kids?"
I curled up in the corner of the gallery, feeling like an invisible ghost, watching them fight over who didn't want me.
In the end, I was the one who put an end to this farce.
"I can live on my own," I said, standing up and forcing the words out. "Just make sure you send me my living expenses on time."
And like that, I was officially on my own, legally independent, but struggling to make ends meet living by myself.
In the class group chat, the teacher responsible for the seminar camp list had already tagged me three times, her tone shifting from a gentle reminder to a final warning.
She messaged: [Emily, if you don't pay the fee soon, your spot will go to someone on the waitlist. This opportunity is crucial for your college application. Think carefully.]
I bit down hard on my lower lip, my stomach starting to ache again.
Today's lunch was a veggie bread for 0.5 dollars. That was all I could afford. My pocket only had 1 dollar left.
But the 600-dollar registration fee was more important than going hungry.
This was the only bridge to my future. If I couldn't even cross it, my life might really hit rock bottom.
I had to get that money, no matter what.
Since they wouldn't answer my calls or reply to my WhatsApp messages, I'd have to go find them myself and ask for it.
My dad's law firm was right in the city center, a few stops away from school.
I decided to go find him myself.
*****
Standing in front of the glittering doors of Richard Firm, I felt a wave of dizziness hit me.
The massive floor-to-ceiling windows were so bright they almost blinded me, reflecting my washed-out school uniform and my pale face.
The receptionist, dressed in a flawless business suit, glanced at me with a flicker of barely concealed contempt.
"I'm here to see Mr. Bennett," I said quietly.
"Do you have an appointment?" she replied, her voice icy and distant, like she couldn't wait to shut me out.
"I'm his daughter," I said.
She paused, sizing me up again, her suspicion deepening. Maybe, in her eyes, the daughter of a star lawyer shouldn't look this run-down. She picked up the phone and murmured a few words.
A few minutes later, my dad's assistant, a young guy named David, walked out.
"Emily, Mr. Bennett is meeting with someone right now. Please wait here for a bit," he said, guiding me to a corner of the lounge before rushing off.
I ended up waiting for over an hour.
During that time, I watched one stylish client after another come and go, while David darted around, serving them freshly brewed coffee and elegant fruit platters.
Meanwhile, all I had in front of me was a cup of cold water.
The pain in my stomach kept getting worse, and cold sweat broke out across my forehead.
Finally, the conference room door swung open. Richard was seeing off a big client, his face plastered with that flawless, professional smile.
But as soon as he spotted me, the smile disappeared, replaced by a look of tired annoyance.
"How did you end up here?" he asked, straightening his tie as he headed toward his office.
I followed him quietly, feeling like a guilty child.
His office was spacious and bright, with an entire wall covered in bookshelves stacked with legal tomes. On his desk sat an elegant photo frame, featuring Chloe at a glamorous gala.
In the picture, she radiated confidence and charm, like a rose in full bloom.