Chapter 1
As soon as my parents' legacy hit my account, my uncle Frank Sullivan and his family barged in with the media, screaming that I'd taken the whole two million for myself.
Martha Sullivan, his wife, pulled out a stack of battered ledgers from her purse, sobbing, "Your parents died young. We gave you everything and took care of you. Because of you, your cousin had to quit school and do hard labor.
"And now that you've made it, you take the two million and act like we don't exist. Did you lose your conscience?"
The livestream was flooded with hate comments. People online were itching to reach through the screen and kill an ungrateful brat like me.
The way they looked at me, all greedy and shameless, made the whole thing feel almost laughable.
They acted like raising me was some huge sacrifice, as if I owed them a debt I could never repay.
But that house was always my parents' legacy. They took over my home and forced me to sleep in the run-down storage room for ten years.
*****
"Storage room? Claire, you'd really stoop so low as to make up a lie like that to keep all the money for yourself?" Martha snapped.
Her face, caked in cheap foundation, twisted in outrage as she thrust her hands toward the camera. Dirt was packed under her nails, but she still flashed several gaudy rings.
She added, "Guys, go see for yourselves. What kind of storage room looks like a palace? We gave her the sunniest room in the house so she'd be comfortable.
"Frank and I had to squeeze into the dark, damp north room. We couldn't even afford decent food because we were saving every penny for her tuition."
She kept howling and wailing, her beady eyes drilling into me like she wanted to skin me alive.
The livestream chat blew up instantly, curses and insults flooding the screen so fast it was like a tidal wave of hate.
Frank squatted off to the side, puffing on his pipe. His face, lined with years of hardship, twisted into a look of deep sorrow.
He squeezed out some tears right on cue. "Claire, I don't expect you to pay us back, but you can't stab us in the back like this.
"Your cousin was the most promising student in the whole school. He tore up his acceptance letter and went to do hard labor, so you could go to that elite private school. How could you be so heartless?"
My cousin Eric Sullivan stood nearby in work clothes that looked deliberately filthy. When he heard Frank's words, he straightened up and put on the face of someone bearing endless humiliation for the sake of his family.
"Dad, Mom, that's enough. As long as Claire is doing well, I will take whatever comes, even if it breaks my back. She is the only real family we have," Eric said with righteous conviction.
The so-called neighbors, who were actually paid actors, started whispering and pointing fingers.
"Claire looks nice, but how can she be so heartless?"
"Yeah, Frank and his family are honest folks. Back then, they did everything for that orphan."
"Two million dollars. She should at least give half to her uncle. Trying to keep it all for herself? Have she no shame?"
I watched the circus with a cold smirk playing at my lips. They did everything for me? They drained every cent of my parents' death benefits and wrecked my life.
That so-called "sunniest room"? Of course it was bright. It was a ramshackle hut that let the wind in from every direction.
And that so-called elite private school? I never even had a new textbook in my entire life.
"Martha, you claim you paid for me to go to some fancy private school?" I stepped up, staring her down as she tried to dodge my gaze. "So tell me, what was the school's name? Where was it? Who was the principal?"
Martha's eyes flickered with panic, but she quickly raised her voice. "You little brat, how would I remember all that stuff? Anyway, the tuition was over a hundred grand a year. Frank and I had to sell a kidney to pay for your schooling."
"What a touching story," I scoffed.
I grabbed my phone and mirrored the screen onto the big TV in the living room. It was a bank alert. "The two million dollar inheritance really did come through," I said.
Eric's eyes lit up at the number as he swallowed hard.
Martha practically lunged for my phone, but I sidestepped and she missed.
"You want the money?" I waved my phone. "Fine. But let's settle this once and for all. You claim you spent one million on my education. Where's your proof?"
"The proof is right here," Martha declared, brandishing the battered ledger. "I remember every single expense.
"In 2015, we paid 60 grand for your admission fee. In 2016, you wanted to learn piano, so we spent 100 grand on the piano and lessons. In 2017, you said you wanted to study abroad, and that was another 160 grand..."
Her story flowed smoother and smoother, as if every cent had really been spent on me.
I glanced at the ledger and couldn't help but let out a cold laugh. "In 2016, I was still working in that sweatshop in town, snipping threads for you guys.
"I made twenty bucks a day, and you took nineteen. How could I have had time for piano lessons?"
"You're lying." Martha shrieked. "You just don't want to pay us back. Reporters, look at her. This heartless brat will say anything to get out of paying us. Do those soft, pampered hands look like they have ever done a single day of hard labor?"
She yanked my hand and shoved it right up to the camera.
My hands look pretty good now, but that's only because I busted my ass these past few years to earn it.
But to them, it was proof I'd been pampered all along.
"Claire, you really let me down," Eric said with disappointment, stepping forward. "Since you're so heartless, don't blame me for fighting back.
"Everyone, look at this. This is the scar I got on the construction site, all because I busted my back to pay for her school."