Chapter 2

I had barely opened the door when Dad grabbed my wrist.

“Stop.”

He slapped my early-admission paperwork down on the entryway table.

“You applied for early admission to a school out of state without saying a word to us?

“Do you even see us as your parents anymore?”

Mom’s expression darkened too.

“We give you three hours and you complain it isn’t enough. Now we offer you more time and you don’t want it.

“We invite you out with us, and this is the attitude you give us?”

Dad immediately posted about it in the family group chat.

'She’s grown up cold and distant. We clearly failed somewhere as parents.'

One of my aunts said I thought I was too good for my family now.

My uncle said it didn’t matter how much education I got if I couldn’t even respect my own parents.

Then Dad’s older brother sent one final message.

'She was always closer to her grandmother growing up. That’s what happens when you let grandparents raise a child. They turn out cold and detached.'

My head buzzed.

I lunged toward Dad’s phone.

“Don’t talk about Grandma!

“Say whatever you want about me, but leave Grandma out of this!”

My uncle immediately fired back.

“See? This is exactly what I mean. Her grandmother spoiled her rotten…”

I reached for the phone.

Dad yanked it away and shoved me back.

My lower back slammed into the entryway table.

My early-admission paperwork fluttered to the floor.

“Isn’t this exactly what your grandmother turned you into?”

Smack!

My head snapped to the side.

A sharp ringing filled my ears.

I clutched my cheek as tears sprang to my eyes.

Then I pointed at Nina.

“Why does she get to have everything?

“She wants to go to an amusement park, so you spend the whole day with her.

“She has a parent-teacher conference, and you’ll cancel meetings for her.

“What about me?

“I couldn’t even hug you for one minute without being charged for it!”

Dad’s voice thundered through the room.

“She’s not the same as you!”

“Why not?”

For the first time in my life, I screamed back at him.

“What gives you the right to hit me?

“Were you ever even there for me?”

The room went dead silent.

Mom’s face changed instantly.

“Lena Hayes!

“You’ve had the best of everything since you were little. The best clothes, the best schools. Your tuition alone costs tens of thousands a year.

“When have we ever deprived you of anything?”

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.

“That was money.

“Not you.

“Grandma picked me up from school.

“Grandma cooked for me.

“Grandma stayed up with me all night when I had a fever.”

When I was thirteen, Grandma’s health started getting worse, and she decided to move back to her hometown.

I secretly stuffed my school uniform into her suitcase.

Her eyes turned red.

“If you come with Grandma, what about your mom and dad?”

I kept shoving clothes into the suitcase.

“They don’t need me.”

My parents eventually caught up with us at the station.

For the first time I could remember, Mom held me so tightly I could barely breathe.

Dad said,

“You’re our daughter. How can you just leave with Grandma?

“Once the company is stable, we’ll have more time for you.”

I believed him.

Later, the company went public.

Their offices got bigger and bigger.

But my three hours never increased by a single minute.

Mom pulled Nina behind her.

“We were strict with you because you’re our own daughter!

“Nina grew up without parents. What’s wrong with giving her a little extra love?”

Dad’s voice was cold.

“We gave you every opportunity in life.

“You should be more capable and more independent because of it.”

Nina spoke softly.

“Mr. Hayes, if you’re busy next week, I can go to the parent-teacher conference by myself.”

Mom immediately stroked her hair.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll go.”

Dad pulled out his phone.

“What time is it? I’ll move my meeting.”

Nina pressed her lips together.

“Won’t that mess up your schedule?”

Dad smiled.

“You’re more important.”

My hand slowly fell to my side.

During my first parent-teacher conference in high school, the teacher kept Dad twenty-three minutes longer than scheduled.

The next month, two hundred and thirty dollars disappeared from my allowance.

After that, I paid someone two hundred dollars to attend every parent-teacher conference for me.

For three years, I never asked my parents to come again.

I looked at Dad.

“So because I’m your biological daughter, I’m the one who’s supposed to go without?”

Mom frowned.

“Who said you go without anything?”

I bent down and picked up my acceptance form.

Someone had stepped on it.

I carefully smoothed out the creases.

“Right.”

“I have three hours.”

I took the form and headed for the door.

Behind me, Dad called out,

“If you walk out that door now, the rest of your time this month…”

“I don’t need it.”

I didn’t look back.

“Not this month.

“Not ever again.”