Chapter 2

As I walked away, I heard my dad grumbling under his breath, "Who the hell do you think you are, threatening us?

"If you're so tough, then cut the cord: quit calling us Mom and Dad.

"We'll act like you never existed."

I paused for a second, but didn't look back.

Cutting the cord? That was exactly what I wanted.

I didn't need their favoritism.

Now that I was finally on my own, I had no idea where to go. Before I knew it, I was standing downstairs at Quinn's place.

As I stared at his windows, all those old memories started swirling in my mind.

Just days ago, Quinn and I were supposed to get engaged. But then Jane showed up with Karen, and my parents saw dollar signs. They demanded another house and an extra 330 thousand dowry before they'd bless anything.

Dinner imploded. Quinn's folks, usually the calmest people, walked out mid-dessert; they weren't signing up to be anyone's ATM.

They just said they needed time to think: code for "no way."

Quinn looked crushed. On his way out, he muttered, "Some things I can't say in there, but you need to get out of that house."

In my previous life, I was all pride and nerves, way too sensitive for my own good. I never said a word, but deep down, I was screaming in protest.

Then Jane pulled a fake suicide stunt. Meanwhile, I got hit with formaldehyde poisoning. I lost my baby just like that. Quinn's heart softened; he just couldn't bear to leave me.

Jaw clenched, he slid the ring on anyway and vowed to help me raise Karen.

But my parents just leveled up. When I kept saying no, they broke into Quinn's office, stole his trade secrets, and sold them to his biggest rival for cash on the spot.

Quinn's company crashed overnight. He was driven to the brink and almost jumped off a building. In the end, he chose to divorce me.

Afterwards, I fell sick, hollowed out, shuffling through days like a ghost.

But in this life, none of that had happened yet, and I was not making the same mistakes again.

Still, whenever I thought about Quinn, I couldn't help but feel really guilty.

I stood downstairs in his building, hesitating for what felt like forever. Finally, I turned away, planning to leave.

But just as I did, I came face-to-face with Quinn, who had just gotten off work.

Quinn was still fuming, his face tight with anger.

He demanded, "What are you doing here? Yara, do you think it's fun playing my family for fools? They were really looking forward to the engagement, but look at what your family did. A promise doesn't mean anything to your family, does it?"

I almost blurted out that I was pregnant, but in this life, I refuse to let Quinn get dragged into my mess.

Biting my lip, I said nothing and quickly walked away.

I stayed at a hotel for the time being and went straight to the office the next morning.

After a chaotic morning, I finally checked my phone: dozens of missed calls from my parents, and the family chat exploding with pings.

My dad said Karen was sick and demanded I take him to the hospital.

Karen had textbook rich-kid syndrome: endless "special" meds, VIP doctors, the works.

It was the same in my previous life. Karen was constantly in and out of the hospital for some rare condition that wasn't even covered by insurance. And of course, I was the one stuck paying for it every time.

Now, in this life, they still expected me to be the sucker who paid for everything.

I turned my phone face down, feeling totally calm and just focused on my work.

But then, out of nowhere, my parents stormed into my office with Karen in their arms.

My dad yelled, "Yara, do you even have a heart? Karen's this sick, and you just play dead, thinking you can dodge responsibility?"

He actually tried to slap me.

But two security guards rushed over and held him back. I could tell they hesitated since my parents kept insisting they were family.

I said calmly, "Dad, you talk like Karen's my kid. He's got parents, and if they're useless, he's still got his grandparents. So why am I on the hook?"

My dad snapped, "Don't give me that nonsense. Just answer me: are you going or not?" My dad ran the house like his own little kingdom; his word was law and everyone else was just there to obey.

But he had got it all wrong.

My dad used to be an elementary school teacher, and now he pulled in about 2 thousand a month in retirement.

My mom only got about 1 thousand.

Pretty much every expense at home? That was all on me.

My dad bossed me for so long that he forgot the only rule that mattered: whoever held the wallet, held the power.

I tapped my desk coolly and told the guards, "Kick them out. If they show up again, just call the police."

My cold attitude just sent my parents over the edge.

They started hurling curses at me, calling me a heartless beast, saying I was turning my back on my own folks and that I deserved to get struck by lightning.

I couldn't care less.

I had actually died once; nothing about other people's pathetic tantrums could bother me anymore.

I killed every auto-pay, froze the family cards, and let the lights and water shut themselves off.

I'd love to see how far those tiny pensions stretched once the tap was off: Karen's meds or Jane's overseas dream, pick one.