My Dad’s a Billionaire, Yet I’m Broke

“Miss, your don’t have enough balance on this card.”

The cafeteria worker leaned out after the card reader beeped to indicate insufficient funds.

I suddenly remembered that this month had thirty-one days, while the money I’d saved from my part-time jobs was only enough to cover thirty days of meals.

“I’m on a diet today. I don’t need anything else. I'll just have some bread.”

The cafeteria worker immediately saw through my excuse. Her face softened with sympathy.

“Sweetheart, you’re already this skinny, and you’re still trying to lose weight?”

She spooned a generous helping of sauce over my bread.

“If you’re ever short on money, just tell me quietly. I’ll slip an extra chicken leg onto your plate next time.”

Her kindness made my chest ache.

Why did even a stranger feel sorry for me when my own father had never cared about me?

My best friend, Tiffany Brooks, returned to the table after getting her food. When she saw that my tray contained nothing but bread, she slammed her fist against the table.

“I’m telling you, just go to your dad’s company and make a scene! He’s a billionaire, yet his own daughter can barely afford to eat!

“I’d love for everyone to see what this so-called philanthropist billionaire is really like behind closed doors.”

I had long since grown accustomed to living this way, but her words still stirred a bitter ache inside me.

If the college cafeteria hadn’t provided free bread to students in need, I really wouldn’t have been able to afford food.

Ever since my parents, Nathaniel and Margaret Carter, divorced, Mom had fallen apart. She spent her days drinking herself into a stupor, and eventually, she drank away what little savings we had left.

Our neighbor, Mrs. Evelyn Harper, couldn’t stand watching it anymore and once tried to talk some sense into Mom.

“Margaret, you can’t keep going like this. Your daughter is still so young. You need to pull yourself together and raise her.

“Look how thin that poor girl is. I’m afraid a strong gust of wind could carry her away!”

But Mom, sprawled across her bed, cursed at her neighbor.

“If it weren’t for this worthless girl, I wouldn’t have been abandoned by that man!

“I gave birth to a girl instead of a son, and even a dog would hate her! And you expect me to raise her? Dream on!”

At that age, I didn’t understand why Mom was so angry, but I could read the answer on her face.

My mother had become this broken, miserable person because of me.

If I had never been born, or if I had been a boy, Mom’s life would have turned out completely differently.

During the rare moments when Mom was sober, she would take out old photographs and show them to me.

“Look at how good your father used to be to me. He took me everywhere and never let me worry about a thing.

“He wouldn’t let me do any hard work. He even handled all the chores, like sweeping and washing the dishes.

“He worked late into the night every day, yet he’d still come into the kitchen and make me a bowl of chicken noodle soup before bed. It was as if he never knew what being tired felt like.”

Looking at how loving my parents had once been in those photographs, I planted a seed in my heart when I was still very young.

I had caused all of this.

I had to do everything I could to make it up to Mom.

As soon as I was old enough to understand, I started doing farm work for people in our small rural community in exchange for pocket money. Seeing how pitiful I was, they would often give me food to take home.

With their help, I barely managed to grow up.

After I started college, I worked several part-time jobs every day after class. Most of what I earned went toward supporting our household, leaving me with only fifty dollars a month for myself.

I could barely survive thanks to the financial aid the school provided to students from low-income families.

I had already grown used to this kind of life.

That was until one day, when I saw a news report about my father on television.

[Nathaniel Carter, CEO of Carter Holdings, Spends One Billion Dollars to Build a Skyscraper for His Six-Year-Old Son, Ethan Carter]

For the first time, I felt the crushing weight of the disparity between his life and mine.

My eyes burning with tears, I turned to Mom.

“Mom, why does Dad have so much money, yet he’s never come back to see me even once?

“Doesn’t he have even the slightest bit of affection for me?”

Mom let out a cold laugh.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to. You’re the person he hates most in this world.”