Chapter 3 · Too Late to Want Me

I looked up at my brother in shock.

His cold smile grew even wider.

He said, "Don't play dumb. I know you heard everything Isabel said on the phone.

"Yeah, you were a stray we picked up.

"That's why we always took Isabel's side and hated you. That's why we sent you to live in the sticks until you were twelve.

"It's because you're not even related to us."

I looked at Mom and Dad. Their eyes were fixed on me, silent and unmoving.

Finally, they gave a silent nod.

My hands trembled, and deep down, something inside me broke completely.

My brother gritted his teeth.

He said, "Now do you see how out of line you've been? You and Isabel are both adopted.

"But you're pretending to be one of us, always fighting with Isabel.

"You're adopted. You are also a loser who flunks every test. What right do you have to fight for anything? It's laughable.

"If you want us to celebrate your birthday, then prove yourself. If you've got what it takes, get into the top ten in your class."

Isabel hid behind my brother and gave me a mocking grin.

I suddenly felt like none of this mattered anymore.

It was ridiculous.

I was adopted, like Isabel. I had no right to fight for their love.

However, I knew that I wasn't actually adopted.

Ever since I came back to this house at twelve, my life had been a living hell.

If I got even a little close to Mom and Dad, Isabel would get all moody.

If I scored higher than her on a test, she'd pout for days.

If a teacher praised me, Isabel would make a huge scene at home, bawling and throwing tantrums.

To keep Isabel happy, my family wouldn't let me get close to them. They also wouldn't let me outscore Isabel on tests.

They wouldn't even let me excel or stand out in school, or get praised by teachers.

It was because Isabel would get upset.

If I refused, they'd lock me up in the pitch-black basement.

They wouldn't let me out until I caved.

So when I turned fifteen, I'd had enough. I took some of their hair.

I secretly went to a DNA lab and got a test done.

I was sure I wasn't their kid.

If I were their real daughter, they'd never treat me like this.

Once I got the results, I planned to use them to get myself into an orphanage.

But to my utter disbelief, the DNA test proved I was their real daughter.

I was actually biologically related to them.

Chapter 3

I looked up at my brother in shock.

His cold smile grew even wider.

He said, "Don't play dumb. I know you heard everything Isabel said on the phone.

"Yeah, you were a stray we picked up.

"That's why we always took Isabel's side and hated you. That's why we sent you to live in the sticks until you were twelve.

"It's because you're not even related to us."

I looked at Mom and Dad. Their eyes were fixed on me, silent and unmoving.

Finally, they gave a silent nod.

My hands trembled, and deep down, something inside me broke completely.

My brother gritted his teeth.

He said, "Now do you see how out of line you've been? You and Isabel are both adopted.

"But you're pretending to be one of us, always fighting with Isabel.

"You're adopted. You are also a loser who flunks every test. What right do you have to fight for anything? It's laughable.

"If you want us to celebrate your birthday, then prove yourself. If you've got what it takes, get into the top ten in your class."

Isabel hid behind my brother and gave me a mocking grin.

I suddenly felt like none of this mattered anymore.

It was ridiculous.

I was adopted, like Isabel. I had no right to fight for their love.

However, I knew that I wasn't actually adopted.

Ever since I came back to this house at twelve, my life had been a living hell.

If I got even a little close to Mom and Dad, Isabel would get all moody.

If I scored higher than her on a test, she'd pout for days.

If a teacher praised me, Isabel would make a huge scene at home, bawling and throwing tantrums.

To keep Isabel happy, my family wouldn't let me get close to them. They also wouldn't let me outscore Isabel on tests.

They wouldn't even let me excel or stand out in school, or get praised by teachers.

It was because Isabel would get upset.

If I refused, they'd lock me up in the pitch-black basement.

They wouldn't let me out until I caved.

So when I turned fifteen, I'd had enough. I took some of their hair.

I secretly went to a DNA lab and got a test done.

I was sure I wasn't their kid.

If I were their real daughter, they'd never treat me like this.

Once I got the results, I planned to use them to get myself into an orphanage.

But to my utter disbelief, the DNA test proved I was their real daughter.

I was actually biologically related to them.