Future Me Exposes Dad's Secret Daughter

I hurried over to Botanic Villas on the east side of the city, disregarding the blazing sun beating down on my head, but was stopped by the security guard at the guardhouse.

There was a wary look in his eyes as he asked, "Outsiders aren't allowed to come in as they please. Who are you looking for?"

Clinging to the tiny bit of hope in my heart, I replied cautiously, "I'm looking for Samuel Thorne. I'm his daughter."

The security guard burst into laughter at my words. "What nonsense. Mr. Thorne only has one son and one daughter, whose name is Melissa Thorne. He even brought Ms. Thorne out to the designer showroom yesterday to pick out a gown from the latest collection. Where the hell did you come from, you country bumpkin? How dare you try to impersonate her?"

With that said, he showed me a photo.

Upon getting a good look at it, I felt like I had plunged into icy waters, and my heart sank to the bottom of my feet.

In the photo, my father, Samuel Thorne, and my older brother, Peter Thorne, were standing beside a young woman, affectionate smiles on their faces.

I recognized the young woman, for she was none other than the class belle, Melissa Thorne.

Two months ago, she had gloated to the entire class about how her family had bought her a small villa and paid for it in full.

When asked about the price, she had smiled smugly. "It's not much, just a little over three million."

My monthly allowance of only ten dollars started when I was in high school. If my future self was right, I was supposed to receive 100,000 dollars a month, but Dad had skimmed off 99,000 dollars. That totaled up to roughly one million dollars a year, so multiplied by my three years of high school, that amounted to just about three million.

At that realization, my hands trembled violently, even as I tightened my grip on the photo.

…

When I returned home, Dad and Peter were in the living room—neither noticed my unnaturally pale face.

Dad walked over and handed me a few bills. "Christy, here's your monthly allowance. Your mother just transferred it over. Spend it frugally, okay?"

For a moment, I stared at the bills, then I raised my head to scan his face.

He wore the same loving and sympathetic expression as always.

Eyes reddening, I forced myself to smile wryly. "Just 30 dollars a month… That eager to see me starve to death, huh?"

Dad sensed something off with my tone and frowned. "You know how your mother is. If I were to confront her about your monthly allowance again, she's probably going to send me a divorce agreement."

I quirked a brow and spoke, not even realizing that my voice had gone shrill.

"Is that so? Then the next time she calls, I'll ask her about it."

Immediately, Peter came over to me and patted my head soothingly while stuffing 30 dollars into my hand.

"I'll make the decision this time. Worst case, we just won't turn on the air-conditioning in your room this month."

Then, he winked at me and deliberately lowered his voice. "It's okay. You can still sneakily turn it on. Dad and I will just pretend not to know."

Ever since Mom headed overseas, a new rule had been enforced in our house. I was allowed access to all the household appliances and electronics, including a mobile phone, but I had to pay to use them.

Naturally, I didn't have the money for that, so I could only use them twice a month, on the first day and the last. I'd already lost count of how many nights I had to struggle to finish my homework while sitting in the dark.

Sometimes, when my period came during the summers, I would almost be driven mad with the heat and could only attempt to lower my temperature by taking a cold shower, all while crying.

Now, I stared at the 30 dollars Peter had given me.

If this had been my past self, I would've been elated at receiving this extra money. Now, however, I suddenly recalled something that Melissa had once said.

She had said that she'd always been of frail health since she was young, so her family had specifically hired a professional to install a climate control system in the house. So the system worked year-round to keep the temperature and humidity as comfortable as possible.

Thinking back on it now, I realized that her smile then had been incredibly grating to see.

I returned the money Peter gave me, keeping only the ten dollars Dad had handed me.

"There's no need for this." I practically growled the words. "I only want what originally belongs to me."

After that, I headed to my bedroom, dug out the documents needed to prove my identity, and went to the bank closest to our house.

Handing my ID over to the bank teller, I said, "Hello, I would like to check the transaction records of all bank accounts under my name for the past three years."