Chapter 4

As the finals approached, I was practically living in the library.

The day the results came out, my GPA was 4.2. I came out at the top of my major. I received 8,000 dollars from the National Scholarship and 3,000 dollars from the First-Class College Scholarship.

I sent the photo of my certificates to Mom right away, with just one sentence attached.

"I got an S+ performance rating. Please be ready to hold up your end of the deal."

But she didn't reply.

Left without a choice, I went home with the transcript and certificates in hand, intending to talk with her about holding up her end of the deal.

I opened the door to a house full of noise and activity.

Aunt Beatrice, the one who'd ratted me out for doing part-time jobs, was there too.

The coffee table was piled high with gift boxes. Rodney sat in the middle of the couch, playing games on the latest iPhone 17 Pro Max.

"Oh my, look who's here—our family's star scholar!" Aunt Beatrice popped some chips into her mouth and continued in a sarcastic tone, "I heard you did pretty well in your finals this time. Since you got a scholarship, shouldn't you treat Rodney to a nice big meal?"

Mom sat in the host seat, her face glowing with pride as she soaked up the flattery.

"She got top of her class, which is fine, I suppose." Her tone was casual, but she couldn't hide the smugness in her eyes.

I couldn't be bothered with Aunt Beatrice. Instead, I slapped a copy of my certificates down on the table and got straight to the point.

"Mom, I've earned the National Scholarship, a top-class GPA, and an S+ performance rating. As per our contract, I'm requesting the 10,000 dollars you promised, plus the 20,000 dollars for the scholarship, which comes to 30,000 dollars in total."

Suddenly, the room went dead quiet, and the three of them exchanged glances.

Rodney looked up at me, then let out a snort. "Sabrina, are you obsessed with money or something?"

The smile on Mom's face froze. She put down her mug and smoothed her collar unhurriedly before saying, "Sabrina, since everyone's here, let's have a year-end review meeting."

She pulled up an Excel spreadsheet and projected it onto the TV.

"This is a cost-performance analysis of your performance this year. Although your results are good, but—" Her tone sharpened. "As you know, the company's current strategic focus is on Rodney.

"He made significant progress this semester—he went from fifth from the bottom to the tenth from the bottom. To reward this kind of breakthrough growth, the board has decided to make an additional investment in him."

She pointed to the new phone in Rodney's hand. "This phone cost 1,700 dollars, and the one-on-one tutoring sessions we signed him up for cost 20,000 dollars. Combined with other miscellaneous expenses, that comes to exactly 30,000 dollars."

She looked at me, utterly convinced of her own righteousness, and concluded, "The source of these funds is your performance bonus."

I was shaking with rage. "On what grounds? I busted my guts for this!"

"On the grounds that I am the one with the money!" Mom slammed her hand on the table. "Without the base salary I provide you every month to keep you afloat, would you have been able to go to college in peace? All of your output rightfully belongs to the company!"

Aunt Beatrice chimed in from the side, "Your mother's right, Sabrina. Rodney is a boy. He's the one who will carry on the family line and take care of things in the future. So, what's wrong with spending a little more on him?"

Rodney waved his phone around smugly. "Sabrina, you win some, and you lose some. Besides, isn't your money the family's money? What's the big deal if I spend it? Don't be such a cheapo."

They played off each other like a chorus, their expressions ugly and smug.

Mom, seeing my "lack of perspective", pulled an envelope from her bag and tossed it at my feet.

"Here's 200 dollars. Consider it a consolation prize for being an excellent employee. You young people need to develop some big-picture thinking. Don't always fixate on these petty little gains."

I looked at the envelope and Mom's "I'm doing this for your own good" expression. Suddenly, I felt this home was even colder than the blizzard raging outside.

"Boss, I don't want the consolation prize." I picked up the envelope and tore it to shreds in front of everyone. "And since you love talking about contracts so much…"

I pulled a document, one I'd prepared a long time ago, from my backpack.

"This is my letter of resignation. I'm terminating my employment."