Chapter 1

The day my birth parents found me, they announced the will to the world.

In it, the money went to my adopted sister. The company went to my brother.

All I got were the few acres of land my grandmother had left in the countryside.

Later, my adopted sister developed depression, stood on the rooftop, and told our parents to choose one of us.

My mother looked at me, torn, and said, "Or maybe... you could go back to the countryside for a while?"

"Once Frances Swanson is better, we'll bring you home again."

Afraid I'd refuse, my father quickly added, "I'll hire someone to look after you, and I'll send you living expenses regularly."

I pulled out the suitcase I'd packed long ago and said calmly, "No need to hire anyone. My mom will take care of me."

"Just send the living expenses on time."

After all, even if Frances hadn't made a scene, I'd been planning to leave anyway.

My mother looked stricken, and asked me with real pain in her face, "This mom you're talking about—you mean that adoptive mother out in the countryside?"

"I knew it. In your heart, she's the only one you've ever thought of as your mother."

I looked at her, puzzled.

These three years, every single time, they had chosen my adopted sister over me.

This one time, I chose my adoptive mother.

And she couldn't bear it?

...

Maybe my expression was too cold.

My mother's eyes reddened, and she asked me, wounded, "Do you regret being brought back?"

I made myself look as sincere as I could and said, "No. I've always been grateful to you."

Back then, when they found me, I was on my knees at the hospital, begging the doctor to save my adoptive mother.

My adoptive father had run off with his mistress and the family's savings, and my adoptive mother, sick with rage, had a sudden stroke.

I couldn't come up with the money for her surgery.

It was my birth parents who found me and paid for it.

So I went back with them, and repaid that debt with three years of grievance.

Hearing this, my mother felt much better.

My father, too, said with a look of relief, "You're a good child, one who knows how to be grateful."

"With your adoptive mother there to look after you, we can rest easy."

"But remember, you have birth parents."

"This is your home."

That line was familiar.

They'd said it three years ago, when they brought me back.

But from the moment I stepped through the door, when Frances smashed my head open with a glass and my parents only rushed to comfort her, I knew this place would never be my home.

I nodded, didn't argue, my voice still calm. "Then I'll be going."

I turned and left, dragging my suitcase.

I'd barely stepped out of the yard when I ran straight into my brother, Percival Swanson, hurrying back from the company.

He looked at my suitcase, his lips moving.

I thought he'd say something to make me stay.

After all, since I'd come back, he was the only one in this family who ever cared about me.

But he didn't. Instead, he made excuses for Frances. "Frances is sick. Don't... don't hold it against her."

"Before the SATs, I promise I'll bring you back."

Whatever last trace of warmth I still felt for this family vanished completely in that moment.

I smiled at him. "I'm afraid that won't work. My school records are in the countryside now."