Chapter 1

For a moment, it felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

Before I could even process what I was looking at, a notification on my phone brought me back to reality. It was a text from Dad.

"Don't worry about me, Chase. I'm fine. A couple of painkiller shots will do the trick."

I clamped a hand over my mouth as my heart pounded painfully against my ribs.

My eyes fell on the bank records showing the massive deductions over the past few months.

I'd thought Dad had finally started spending money on himself instead of pinching every penny for my sake. But it turned out that someone else had been spending his money.

The moment I got home, I threw the bank statement onto the coffee table.

"Why is my dad's retirement fund under James's name?"

"All my savings are tied up in a company project right now. I can't access them," Shannon Stewart said after freezing for a split second.

She added, "Putting Mr. Gardner Senior's name on the fund was just a precaution in case of emergencies. You know his health isn't great. Something could happen to him at any time. Once the project pays out, I'll give you back three times the amount."

Her favoritism was as blatant as ever.

She had assigned James Gardner, Sean Gardner's father, a custom ringtone. She would pick up her phone even if he called in the middle of the night.

Dad's chronic condition flared up at least three times a year, yet she never once asked how he was doing.

Meanwhile, messages from the hospital kept coming, each one more urgent than the last. They warned that Dad's condition was critical.

"I need the money now."

My eyes burned as I stared at her. My teeth chattered with rage.

Shannon looked at me like I was being completely unreasonable. Her eyes were filled with blatant disgust.

At some point, Sean had walked in. He looked at me innocently. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Chase. My dad just booked a luxury world tour. It covers all three of us, so this money is barely enough."

He showed me the account balance. There were only 54 dollars and 82 cents left.

I had worked myself to the bone just to earn that one million. Now, that was all that remained.

My throat tightened as I glared at Shannon. "My dad just went into surgery. He needs the money right now. You—"

"That's enough," she cut me off impatiently. "Are you making things up over that little money? I'll write you an IOU. I'll pay you back three million in a month."

After a few quick strokes of her pen, she tossed the handwritten note at me as though it could instantly erase all the favoritism she had shown.

Just then, James walked in carrying shopping bags filled with designer brands. He cheerfully bragged about everything he had bought.

Every cent he had spent came from the money I had been saving to take care of my own dad.

Last month, I bought Dad a 300-dollar jacket. He left it hanging in the closet because he couldn't bear to wear it. Whenever he went out, he still wore the same faded plaid shirt he had had for years.

I pulled up my contacts, ready to borrow money from anyone who would help. Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

It was a message from the hospital informing me of Dad's death.

A deafening ringing filled my ears, and my vision blurred.

I stood in the doorway, clenching the cold IOU so tightly in my fist that I crumpled it into a ball. I stared at the three of them cheerfully chatting in the living room as I made my decision.

I wasn't going back.