Chapter 3

"Transfer the money. Now."

"I'm not obligated to send you another cent. You're the ones eating, not me."

"Besides, isn't Jolene right there? Are you telling me a thirty-year-old woman can't even pay for one meal?"

"Sylvia! You—you ungrateful—"

I wasn't about to waste another second arguing with her, so I hung up.

A dull ache settled in my chest. No matter how determined I was to cut them off, it still hurt.

And with it came the memories I'd rather forget.

My mother had blown through the money my father had worked himself to the bone to save, all to help her younger brother.

My parents fought over it, and my mother walked out.

Then her family showed up at our door and ganged up on my father. No matter how right he was, he couldn't get a word in edgewise.

Later, he worked himself into the ground and died on his way home.

I was still young then. I didn't understand how a man with no illness, no accident, could just die.

I only understood once I was grown.

Years later, after my uncle died, my mother brought Jolene home.

She made me give way to Jolene at every turn. At New Year's, Jolene got new clothes while I wore old ones washed so many times they'd gone gray.

In college, she only paid Jolene's tuition and told me to drop out and get a job.

Luckily, my grades were good, and a scholarship got me through to graduation.

Looking back, I should have cut my mother out of my life years ago.

When I got home, three people were waiting for me in the living room.

They weren't there because they were worried about me. They were there to put me on trial.

My mother snatched the teacup off the table and threw it at my head.

"So you do remember how to come home."

"Do you have any idea how humiliating today was for me?"

"My dance friends were at the next table, and you cut off my card so I couldn't pay the bill. They laughed at me."

I'd had enough of all of them. I pointed straight at Jolene.

"Let me ask you—is she a grown adult or not?"

Jolene shot to her feet.

"Sylvia, what's that supposed to mean?"

I turned and looked straight at her.

"You're a grown woman. You sit there eating with your elders and you actually make her pay the bill? And you've got the nerve to act like you're in the right."

"I'm only going to say this once, so all of you listen up."

"From today on, I won't give you any more money, and I won't bail you out again."

I turned back to my mother, whose face had gone dark.

"If you've got a problem with that, we can sever ties for good."

Jason and Jolene both froze. They never expected me to say something as drastic as cutting off the family.

"Sylvia, all she did was ask you to cover the bill. Would you really take it as far as disowning your own mother?"

"Hurry up and apologize to Mom—"

"Do you think I'm angry about the cost of one meal?"

This wasn't about the cost of one meal. It was about more than a decade of blatant favoritism—and the two and a half million she'd just charged to my card to buy Jolene a house.

Jolene quickly stepped between me and my mother, her face full of guilt.

"Auntie, Sylvia, please don’t argue."

"I think Sylvia's right. I'll be more careful from now on."

My mother's eyes settled on Jolene with open approval.

It had always been like this. Right or wrong, the moment Jolene bowed her head and apologized, my mother praised her for being so mature.

When it came to me, being "mature" just meant handing over my money without complaint.

Only now did I understand: no matter how well I did, it never measured up to a single word from Jolene.

"You ungrateful girl, for Jolene's sake, I'll let today go."

"Get back to your room."

"I can go to my room right now. But first, I want back the two and a half million you took from me."

"If you don't return it, I'll call the police."

I had nothing more to say. I picked up my black bag and headed back to my room, leaving them standing there.