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Ice and Ashes: My Mother Thinks I'm Faking It

NovelMaster Completed

现实主义-Realistic魔幻-Magic

The day I officially quit the hockey team was the day I ran into my biological mother. She was standing right next to her stepson, smiling proudly as he held up the championship trophy. When she spotted me, she frowned in disgust. "Is this how your father takes care of you? You look like a homeless kid. It’s embarrassing." "Didn't I give you a debit card? Did you blow through all the money already?" I just smiled, walking right past her as if she were a total stranger. She had no idea that the card she gave me was completely deactivated. And she didn't know that my dad had died three days ago because we couldn't afford his medical bills. 1 I refolded the paper in my hand and walked into the coach's office. Coach Miller took it, flipped to the physical evaluation sheet attached to the back, and paused. "Leo, are you absolutely sure about this?" "You're one of the best players we have. Quitting now is a waste of your talent. Your skating and shooting metrics are top-tier. Your performance at the regional qualifiers was more than enough to get you scouted for the state team." I gripped my backpack straps and shook my head quietly. Another coach in the office, who had just walked in, chimed in casually. "Hey, did you see Mrs. Valerie Vance outside? She attended the trophy ceremony and just donated a massive scholarship to the school. It’s specifically for the top ten players in the hockey program. The principal is thrilled." The other coach laughed. "Well, she really treats that stepson of hers like her own. I heard she already mapped out his entire path to the junior professional leagues." "And Ethan is a beast on the ice. He’s the top scorer every game. Any school would love a parent like Valerie." I stood before the desk, keeping my mouth shut. A few students waiting at the door to submit their papers couldn't help but look at me. One of them glanced at my quit slip, then at my faded, worn-out practice jersey, and whispered. "Man, talk about different lives." "Valerie Vance has such a great public image. She donates to the school, shows up to every game... I bet she treats her own kid like royalty at home." I looked up and caught the kid's eye. "How someone treats you isn't about what they say to the media. It’s about what they actually do when no one is watching." The kid blinked, stunned. The office went dead silent. Coach Miller stared at me, looking like he wanted to ask something, but he ultimately held back. He just placed my quit slip under a paperweight. "Alright, Leo. If you're sure." I turned and walked out. The school hallway felt endless. Sunlight poured through the high windows, creating bright patches on the cold floor. I walked past the trophy display case and saw the photo right in the center. Valerie was standing on one side, and Ethan was in his shiny varsity jersey, holding the championship cup. Both of them were beaming. It was a perfect picture. Elegant, wealthy, the perfect mother-son duo. No one would ever associate them with me. I walked out of the building as the chilly wind hit my face. Now that I had officially quit, I didn't have to worry about the expensive team fees. But I still had to cover next semester’s tuition. I had a little money left from what my dad saved before he passed, plus what I made from my part-time job. It was barely enough to keep me afloat for a while. But how long? I didn't know. Could I even make it to graduation? I didn't dare to think about it. After school, I went straight to my shift at the local convenience store. Once the evening rush cleared, I stood behind the register, working straight through until almost 10 PM. Sam, the store manager, handed me a cup of hot water. "School pressing you for the hockey fees again, kid?" I gave a low murmur of assent. Sam sighed heavily. "When Marcus was still here, his biggest fear was messing up your hockey career. Every time he got paid, he didn't care if he had enough for food. He just wanted to make sure your ice time was paid for. He always told me, 'I can starve, but my kid’s future can't be cut short.'" My hand holding the barcode scanner froze. I stared at the shelf in front of me, completely paralyzed. After my dad died, the first thing I lost wasn't just financial support. It was the feeling of having someone who actually cared about my future. No matter how late I got home back then, he would always ask if practice went well, and what the coach had taught me. Even when he was at his worst, with IV needles in the back of his hands, he was still whispering about my qualifiers and tournaments. Now, nobody asked. I didn't even have anyone to remind me to wear my protective gear. After my shift, I stopped by a florist and bought a small, discounted bouquet of white roses. Then, I took the last bus to the cemetery. The wind was quiet tonight. The hillside was dead silent. I placed the flowers in front of his grave, knelt down, and looked at the photo of my dad on the headstone. "The school asked for the fees again today." "I turned in my quit slip." I paused, but I couldn't keep the afternoon's event to myself. "I saw Valerie at school today." "She was celebrating Ethan's trophy. She looked so proud." "The first thing she asked me was why I looked so trashy. Then she handed me her business card. She said if I just came home and apologized to her husband, she’d get me into a premier league team instantly." At that point, I couldn't help but let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "She still doesn't know, Dad." "She still doesn't know you're dead." I leaned my head against the cold headstone, staring at his black-and-white photo. "Dad, I wanted to hold on a bit longer." "But I really can't do it anymore." "Don't be mad at me." My throat tightened. "I know you hated the thought of me giving up hockey." "But I tried my best. I really did." The wind swept down from the hills, rustling the grass. I sat there for a long time until my phone screen lit up. It was a text from Coach Miller. “Come to the rink tomorrow morning. Pack up your locker.” 2 The moment I walked through the school gates the next morning, I knew something was wrong. People looked at me and immediately whispered to their friends. Some raised their phones to record me, snapping them down quickly when I looked up. I kept walking toward the rink. As I passed the stairwell, two girls stopped talking and stared straight at my face. Just as I turned the corner of the hallway, I ran straight into three players from the varsity team. The leader was Ethan’s best friend. He slammed his shoulder into mine as we crossed. The impact sent me stumbling backward, my spine cracking hard against the metal lockers. The three of them laughed and walked off. I shook it off and went to my locker. That’s when I noticed the lock was gone. The latch had been pried open. My practice jersey was thrown on the floor, muddy, and my textbooks were ripped to shreds. Written in thick black marker on the inside of the locker door were the words: **LOSER** Beneath it, in smaller handwriting: *“Ungrateful brat. Can't stand to see others succeed. Jealous of your stepbrother.”* I stared at it for a few seconds. Then, I pulled a wet wipe from my bag and calmly wiped the marker off the metal. My teammates stepped away from me, as if being near me would make them social pariahs too. Just then, Coach Miller called from his office door. "Leo. In here. Now." I zipped my backpack and followed him. The moment the office door opened, I saw Valerie. She was standing by the window, looking even angrier than yesterday. Her husband, Richard, was sitting in a chair, his face dark, hands clasped tightly. Ethan stood next to him, his head bowed, looking like a victim. Coach Miller handed me his phone. "Take a look at this." A thread had gone viral on the school's anonymous Reddit page last night. The title was brutal, and the content was even worse. It claimed Ethan wasn't Valerie’s biological son, but she was dumping millions into buying his way into the leagues while starving her actual son. It also hinted that Valerie had abandoned her ex-husband and biological child to raise another man's kid. The post was deleted quickly, but the screenshots were already everywhere on Snapchat. Valerie glared at me. "Did you post this?" I pushed the phone back. "No." Richard stood up immediately, his voice dripping with icy disappointment. "Leo, I get that you're bitter. But Ethan did nothing wrong. Don't take your issues out on him." I said nothing. The other two assistant coaches in the room couldn't help but side with them. "Yeah, Leo. If you have family drama, keep it private. Posting it online is just messy." I wanted to laugh. It was so pathetic. I hadn't done a single thing, yet everyone automatically assumed I was the villain. Why? Because in their eyes, Valerie was rich, influential, and respectable. I was just some poor kid about to get kicked off the team. So, truth didn't matter. Blaming me was just easier. I looked straight at Valerie. "What do I gain from posting that?" "I came here to sign my quit papers today. Do you really think I have the time to care about your little 'happy family' show?" The room went quiet. Coach Miller frowned. "Your paperwork isn't fully processed yet." I ignored him and just tightened my grip on my bag. Valerie, however, zeroed in on my words. Her voice dropped. "So this is a game to you?" "You're pretending to quit just to make me feel guilty?" "Your father used to do the exact same drama. I see you learned from the best." I snapped my head up to look at her. That comment felt like a hot blade straight to my chest. All the anger and grief I had bottled up for the past seventy-two hours shattered. "If my dad was actually good at playing games, Valerie, he wouldn't have let you ruin his life." The office went completely silent. Coach Miller’s face changed. He tried to step in, but Valerie cut him off with a sharp hand gesture. She stared at me, her eyes burning. She turned to the coaches. "Give us the room, please. This is family business." Coach Miller hesitated, but eventually led the others out. The moment the heavy door clicked shut, only the four of us remained. Well, and Ethan. Who was still hiding behind Richard, hands shaking. Valerie took a step closer, her voice low and dangerous. "Leo, when is this tantrum going to end?" I let out a cold laugh. "My tantrum?" "Did I make that post? Did I beg you to recognize me yesterday?" "I came here quietly to pack my stuff, and you guys cornered me in this office to throw dirt on my face." Valerie scoffed. "If you hadn't been talking trash behind our backs, Ethan wouldn't have found out about the past." I looked her dead in the eye. "Oh, so the truth doesn't matter to you. You're just mad that people are finally talking about it." Valerie froze. Seeing her cornered, Richard immediately stepped in, softening his tone. "Leo, I never wanted to take your place, and I don't want you to quit the team. If you need financial help, I can personally write you a check. But please, stop targeting Ethan. He’s innocent. He’s never done anything to hurt you." I stared at him. The way he played the "innocent child" card was exactly the same as three years ago. Back then, he stood behind Valerie, acting like he was having a panic attack, pretending he couldn't handle the stress. And Valerie had immediately rushed to comfort him, without giving me or my dad a single glance. I curled my lip. "You really love using 'innocent kids' as a shield, don't you?" "You did it three years ago, and you're doing it now." 3 Valerie hated it when anyone brought up three years ago. Looking at her, I suddenly remembered when I was a kid, waiting by the window for her to come home. I was young, and my dad always defended her. He told me, *“Mom’s company is going through a rough patch. Once it's over, everything will be fine.”* Then one day, Valerie came home with a pale face. She sat at the dining table for a long time before telling my dad that her business was failing, she was drowning in debt, and she wanted a divorce so she wouldn't drag us down with her. My dad’s face went entirely white. But he didn't blame her. He only asked, *“Is it really that bad?”* She nodded. After that, my dad gave her every single cent of his savings. Checking accounts, savings accounts, retirement funds—he cleared them all out for her. He took on grueling manual labor. Construction during the day, loading trucks at night, trying to help her get through the crisis. I remember waiting by the window every day after school. Waiting for her to open the door. Waiting for her to pick us up. Dad always said, *“Just a little longer. Once Mom is done with work, she’ll come.”* I believed him for a long time. Then, Valerie told us she had to sell our house to pay off her remaining debts, and asked us to move out. Dad believed her again. He took me to the cheapest, most run-down apartment in the sketchiest part of town. He kept working himself to the bone, waiting for her. And then, we saw the news. It was on TV, on social media, on giant billboards downtown. Valerie was getting married to Richard Vance. The wedding was massive, extravagant, and covered by every local outlet. Richard stood next to her in a designer tux, with Ethan standing between them like the perfect family. The host called them "the picture-perfect family of three." My dad's hands shook so hard he dropped his phone. He stared at the screen for an eternity before finally snapping out of it. He grabbed me and took a cab straight to the wedding venue. But we couldn't even get past the gates. Security blocked us. People were staring and whispering. My dad kept pleading, saying he just wanted to talk to Valerie for five minutes to understand what was happening. But no one let us through. Then, Valerie saw us through the crowd. I thought she would run over. But the next second, Richard gasped, clutched his chest, and took a step back, claiming the stress was triggering his heart condition. Valerie immediately barked at the security guards. "Get them out of here. Don't let them ruin this day." Those were her last words to us. When my dad and I were thrown onto the wet pavement outside, it was pouring rain. My dad was soaked to the skin, but he refused to leave. He just kept staring at the bright lights inside the venue. I ran after Valerie's car as they drove away, grabbing at her dress through the window, crying and asking why. She got annoyed and pushed me away. I tumbled down the concrete steps, my head slamming hard against the metal railing. My left ear went ringing, and then... total silence. My dad carried me to three different emergency rooms. The doctors told us that if we treated it immediately, my hearing could be saved. But we didn't have the money for "immediate" treatment. Recalling all of this, I looked back at Valerie. "You're so good at protecting Richard and his son." "How come you can't even stand to hear the truth now?" Valerie’s face was pale, and a flicker of unease finally crossed her eyes. But when she spoke, she still blamed my dad. "What happened back then was because your father couldn't let go. He refused to accept reality and had to make a scene. If he hadn't kept harassing us, we could have lived our separate lives in peace." The anger in my chest flared into a raging fire. "In peace?" "Do you even know why my ear is ruined?" Valerie froze. This was the first time she actually looked at the hearing aid in my left ear. Yesterday, she was too busy calling me trashy to notice what was actually on my body. I pointed to my ear, making sure she saw it clearly. "The day you kicked us out of your wedding, I fell down the concrete stairs. That’s how my ear was destroyed." "Of course you don't remember. You were too busy getting married and comforting Richard to care if your own kid was bleeding on the pavement." Valerie’s lips parted, but no sound came out. I didn't give her a chance to speak. "My dad and I didn't stop trying to reach you. We called, we texted, we begged, we waited. But every single time, either the call was declined, or Richard picked up, telling us you were too busy and that we needed to grow up." "Then my dad’s health went downhill. He was diagnosed with terminal cancer." "You didn't even look at his medical reports. You just assumed he was faking it for money." "And then you threw me a debit card and told me to never show my face again." My hands were shaking. I had actually believed her that day. I thought that no matter how heartless she was, she wouldn't play games with someone's life. I ran all the way back to the hospital with that card, losing a shoe on the way, my mind screaming that my dad was going to live. But at the billing department, the receptionist swiped the card three times before looking up at me. *“There’s no money on this card, honey. It’s deactivated.”* I stood in that sterile hospital lobby, completely numb. I didn't know who to hate. The bank? Myself? Or the mother who never once looked back? I looked at Valerie, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You tell me, Valerie. Is that what you call 'living in peace'?" "Did you ever, for one single second, want my dad and me to survive?" The room was dead quiet. Valerie stared at me, the color completely draining from her face. But after a long silence, her first words were still defensive. "I would never give you an inactive card." I almost laughed out loud. Even now, her first instinct was to protect her own ego. "So you think my dad and I teamed up to lie to you?" "There has to be an explanation for this," she insisted. "Oh, I'm sure there is," I said, staring at her. "But whatever that explanation is, it doesn't matter anymore. My dad is dead." Valerie’s face warped in shock. "What did you say?" I looked her in the eye and repeated, word for word: "My dad is dead."

Chapters (3)

第1章

It was the fifth year after my parents' divorce when I ran into my dad at school. He had just finished a parent-teacher conference for Ethan, my stepbrother, who was the top student in his grade, and he was beaming. The moment he saw me, his face fell. "Is this what you usually wear to school? Is this how your mom raises you?" He handed me a business card, his tone condescending. "Take this. Tell your mom that if she just apologizes and admits her mistakes, I'll immediately enroll you in an advanced placement program. It's better than rotting away in a regular class." I didn't take it, just stepped back. "No need, Mr. Maxwell." His brow furrowed, his eyes filled with disgust. "Just like your mother, a lost cause. Don't ever tell anyone you're my daughter again." I clutched the paper in my hand, watching him leave with a calm expression. He didn't know, That wasn't my report card. It was my withdrawal application, after Mom died and there was no one left to pay my tuition. I refolded the paper and went to the Registrar's Office. Ms. Davies took it, first flipping to the report card tucked inside, pausing for two seconds. "Chloe, are you really sure about this?" "With your grades, dropping out now would be such a waste. You've always been in the top few in your regular class, and your last practice test scores were good enough to get you into a top university." I gripped my backpack strap, simply shaking my head gently. Another teacher, who had just returned from outside, was in the office and casually mentioned, "Mr. Maxwell came for a parent-teacher conference today, and afterwards, he donated an additional scholarship fund to the school, specifically for the top ten students in each grade and those in academic competitions. The principal was just praising him." Another teacher laughed and chimed in, "He's truly dedicated to that boy. I heard he's even planned out his future college abroad." "And the kid is bright, consistently ranking first in his grade. Of course, the school welcomes parents like that." I stood by the desk, silent. There were a few other students at the door, here to submit paperwork, and they couldn't help but glance my way. Someone looked at the withdrawal application in my hand, then at my faded school uniform, and murmured softly, "They're both kids, but their fates are truly different." "Someone like Mr. Maxwell, with such a good reputation publicly, donating money to the school and even personally attending parent-teacher conferences, he surely wouldn't neglect his own daughter privately, would he?" I looked up and met their gaze. "Whether he neglects me isn't about what he says, but what he's done these past five years." That person froze. The office fell silent for a moment. Ms. Davies looked at me, as if wanting to ask something, but in the end, she didn't. She just placed the withdrawal application beneath a corner of her desk. I turned and walked out. The school hallway was long. Light streamed in through the windows, making the floor tiles alternately bright and dark. I walked past the Wall of Fame and saw the photo in the very center. Richard Maxwell stood to one side, while Ethan stood in the middle, holding a trophy. Both of them were smiling. It was a perfect photo. Polished, shining, like a real father and son. Who would ever connect them to me? After school, I went to my part-time job at the convenience store as usual. After the evening rush, I stood behind the counter again, busy until almost ten at night. Mr. Henderson, the store manager, poured me a cup of hot water and placed it by my hand. "Is the school hassling you for tuition again?" I gave a quiet affirmative. Mr. Henderson sighed. "When your mom was still around, she was most afraid of your education being disrupted. Every time she got her paycheck, the first thing she'd ask wasn't if she had enough for herself, but when your tuition bill was due. She always told me, 'We can scrimp and save on other things, but your education can't be cut short.'" The scanner in my hand paused. My gaze landed on the shelves, unmoving for a long time. After Mom left, the first thing that was cut off wasn't my living expenses. It was that feeling of someone caring about my schooling. No matter how late I came home, she would always ask if my homework was done, how my exams went. When she was at her sickest, with needles in the back of her hand, she was still mumbling about my midterms and college applications. Now, no one asks. There's no one even to remind me to bring my exam ID. After work, I went to the local florist and bought a small bouquet of white flowers. Then I bought a discounted cake from a bakery that was about to close, and took the last bus to the cemetery. The wind wasn't strong tonight; the mountain road was quiet. I placed the flowers and cake before the grave, squatting down to look at Mom's photo. "The school asked for tuition again today." "I submitted the withdrawal application." I paused, then recounted what had happened that afternoon. "I saw Richard Maxwell at school today." "He had just finished Ethan's parent-teacher conference, beaming." "The first thing he said when he saw me was still asking if I usually dress like this for school. Then he handed me a business card, saying if you just apologized and admitted your mistakes, he'd immediately enroll me in an advanced placement program." As I spoke, I couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. The smile was so faint I could barely feel it myself. "He still doesn't know you're dead." I unwrapped the cake, cut a small piece with a tiny fork, and placed it on the small plate beside the grave. "Mom, I originally wanted to hold on a bit longer." "But I really can't anymore." "Please don't blame me." I stared at the gravestone, my throat tightening. "I know you were most afraid of me not going to school." "But I've truly tried my best." The wind swept down from the mountain, rustling the blades of grass before the grave with a faint, brittle sound. I sat by the grave for a long time, until my phone screen lit up. It was a message from Ms. Davies. 【Please come to school tomorrow to pack up your personal belongings.】

第2章

The moment I stepped through the school gate the next day, I sensed something was off. Some people saw me and immediately lowered their heads to whisper to those beside them. Others held up their phones, pointing them at me, and quickly lowered them when I looked up. As I walked toward my classroom, passing the staircase, two girls who had been talking suddenly lowered their voices when they saw me, their eyes still drifting to my face. I reached my seat, placed my backpack down, and then saw several lines written in chalk on my desk. Ungrateful wretch. Can't stand to see others do well. Jealous of her stepbrother. Every word was written heavily, as if afraid someone might miss it. I stood there for a few seconds, then took out a tissue from my backpack, moistened it slightly, and slowly wiped the words away. My deskmate subtly shifted away, as if afraid of getting tangled in trouble. Just then, Ms. Davies stood at the doorway and called my name. "Chloe, to the office." I zipped up my backpack and followed her out. When the office door opened, my gaze immediately fell on Richard Maxwell. He stood by the window, his face looking even worse than yesterday. Vivian sat in a chair, her eyes red-rimmed, clutching a tissue. Ethan stood beside her, head bowed, looking all hurt and innocent. Ms. Davies handed me her phone. "See for yourself." Last night, an anonymous post had suddenly appeared on the school forum. The post's title was direct, and its content even more so. It claimed that Ethan wasn't Richard Maxwell's biological son, yet he was using Richard's money to pave his way, monopolizing all resources. It also hinted that Richard had abandoned his first wife and biological daughter, only to raise someone else's kid. The post was quickly deleted, but screenshots had already spread everywhere. Richard stared at me, opening with a question: "Was it you who posted it?" I pushed the phone back. "No." Vivian immediately wiped away a tear, her voice trembling. "Chloe, I know you're upset. But Ethan hasn't done anything wrong." I stayed silent. There were two other teachers in the office, and hearing this, they couldn't help but side with her. "Yes, if there's an issue, handle it privately. Don't air it out on the forum for the whole school to know." Listening to these words, I found it utterly ridiculous. I hadn't done anything, yet everyone already assumed I was the most suspicious one. Because in their eyes, Richard was rich and influential, while I was just a student in a regular class who was about to drop out. So, regardless of the truth, blaming me was always the safe bet. I looked up, addressing Richard directly. "What good would it do me to post that?" "I'm already here today to withdraw from school. Do you really think I have time to watch you three play happy family?" Everyone in the office froze for a moment. Ms. Davies frowned, "The withdrawal process isn't finalized yet, is it?" I didn't answer, just gripped my backpack straps tighter. Richard, however, seemed to grasp something significant, staring at me, his tone suddenly dropping. "So you did this on purpose?" "Intentionally staging this withdrawal to make me soft-hearted?" "Your mom used to love playing the victim card. Now you've learned it too." I looked up at him sharply. That sentence was like a needle, stabbing directly into my heart. The emotions I'd suppressed for a day and a night completely broke at that moment. "If my mom was truly as good an actress as you claim, she wouldn't have been so thoroughly deceived by you back then." The office went silent. Ms. Davies's face changed, and she opened her mouth to intervene, but Richard cut her off with a raised hand. His face slowly darkened, his gaze fixed intently on mine. He turned to the teachers in the office and said, "Could you please step out for a moment? This is a family matter." Ms. Davies hesitated for a moment, then led the others out. The moment the door closed, only the four of us remained in the room. No, Ethan was there too. He stood beside Vivian, his head bowed even lower, his hands clenched tightly. Richard took a step closer to me, his voice heavily suppressed. "Chloe, how much longer are you going to keep this up?" I scoffed. "What am I 'keeping up'? Did I post it, or did I beg you to acknowledge me yesterday?" "I came quietly today to withdraw from school. You're the ones who cornered me in this office first thing in the morning, determined to pin this on me." Richard frowned, "If you weren't instigating things behind the scenes, Ethan wouldn't have suddenly found out about all that." I looked up at him, questioning him word by word. "So in your eyes, the truth itself isn't important? What matters is who said it?" Richard paused. Seeing the situation was turning bad, Vivian immediately stood up, her eyes red as she looked at me. "Chloe, I never intended to steal anyone's place, nor did I want you to drop out. If you're really short on money, I can privately help you out financially. But I beg you, please stop targeting Ethan. He knows nothing and has never hurt anyone." I stared at her. Her 'my child is innocent' act was exactly the same as five years ago. Back then, she was just like this, standing behind the crowd, clutching her stomach, claiming she couldn't handle the stress. Richard immediately turned to comfort her, not even sparing a glance for my mom and me. I forced a smile. "You're best at using 'the child is innocent' as a shield, aren't you?" "It was true five years ago, and it's true now."

第3章

What Richard hated most was anyone bringing up five years ago. I looked at him and suddenly remembered the many years ago when I used to watch from the window, waiting for him to come home. I was little then, and Mom always defended him. She said Dad's company was going through a tough time, and things would get better after this rough patch. Then one day, Richard came home, looking terrible. He sat at the dining table in silence for a long time before telling Mom that the company's finances had collapsed, he was in debt, and he was afraid of dragging us down, so he wanted a divorce first. Mom's face turned pale that day. But she didn't blame him. She only asked one question: "Is it really that hard?" Richard nodded. After that, Mom took out all the money she'd saved during their marriage—bank cards, savings passbooks—she gave him everything, keeping nothing for herself. She also took on many odd jobs, sewing clothes for others during the day and helping out in the kitchen of a small restaurant at night, wanting to help him get through that difficult period together. Back then, what I looked forward to most every day was coming home from school and waiting by the window. Waiting for him to open the door, waiting for him to pick us up. Mom always said, "Just wait a little longer, Dad will come when he's not so busy." I believed it for a long time. Until later, Richard came again and said that the house also had to be collateral for his debts, and we needed to move out. Mom still believed him. She took me to live in the cheapest rental apartment in the run-down part of town, continued to work desperately, and continued to wait for him. But it wasn't long before news of Richard's remarriage was everywhere—on TV, phones, and big screens in shopping malls. The wedding venue was grand, the lights were bright, and there were many people. Vivian stood beside him in a wedding dress, and Ethan stood between them, like a child recognized by everyone. The host said it was the picture of a perfect family of three. Mom held her phone, her hand trembling. She watched for a long time before finally coming to her senses. She took me in a taxi to the wedding venue. But we couldn't even get inside. Security guards blocked us, and everyone around was staring. Mom explained repeatedly that she just wanted to see Richard and get some answers. But no one would let us through. Later, Richard saw us across the crowd. I thought he would come over. But the next second, Vivian clutched her stomach and leaned into his arms, claiming she couldn't handle the stress. Richard immediately told the security guards to drag us out. "Don't let them cause a scene here." Those were the last words he said. When Mom and I were pushed out of the hotel entrance, it was raining outside. Mom was drenched but refused to leave, staring at the lights inside. Later, I chased after Richard, refusing to let go, grabbing his jacket corner and asking him why. He got annoyed and just shook me off. I tumbled down the steps, my ear hitting the railing. The pain was so intense I couldn't hear anything. Mom held me and rushed to several hospitals. The doctors made it clear: if treated early, there was still hope. But we didn't have the luxury of "early." Thinking of this, I looked up at Richard. "Aren't you supposed to be the best at protecting her and her son? Now you can't even stand to hear the truth?" Richard's face was terrible, and a flicker of unease finally crossed his eyes. But when he spoke, he still chose to blame Mom. "What happened back then, your mom just couldn't let go. She refused to accept reality and insisted on blowing things up. If she hadn't kept pestering us, we all could have lived in peace." I stared at him, feeling a surge of anger flare in my chest. "Live in peace?" "Do you know why my ear was damaged?" Richard froze. This was the second time today he truly noticed the hearing aid behind my ear. Yesterday, when we met, he was too busy complaining about my shabby clothes to even notice anything new on my ear. I raised my hand and tucked my hair behind my ear, letting him see more clearly. "The day you had us thrown out, I fell down the steps, and that's how my ear was damaged." "Of course, you don't remember. That day, you were busy getting married, busy comforting Vivian. You didn't have time to care if I'd fallen and gotten hurt." Richard's lips moved, as if he wanted to argue. I didn't give him a chance, continuing. "All these years, my mom and I did try to find you. We called, we messaged, we begged, and we waited. But every time, the call was hung up, or Vivian would pick up and tell us you were busy, to be 'sensible' about it." "Later, my mom's health worsened, and she was diagnosed with a condition requiring long-term treatment." "You didn't even bother to properly look at her medical records, assuming it was just another one of my mom's acts." "Finally, you threw a bank card at me, saying there was money in it, and told me to disappear." As I spoke, my hand was numb from clenching. That day, I really believed it. I thought, no matter how cruel a person was, they wouldn't joke about a human life. I ran back to the hospital with that card, not even noticing one of my shoes had fallen off, my mind filled with the thought that Mom was saved. But at the billing office, the staff swiped the card three times, then looked up at me. "There's no money in it." At that moment, standing in the hospital lobby, my whole body went numb. I didn't know whom to blame. The bank, myself, or the father who never once looked back? I looked at Richard, my voice growing colder. "You call that 'living in peace'?" "Was there ever a single moment when you genuinely wanted my mom and me to survive?" The room was eerily silent. Richard looked at me, the expression on his face finally changing. But after a long silence, his first words were still, "I would never give you an empty card." I almost laughed. Even now, his first instinct was to defend himself. "So you think my mom and I conspired to deceive you?" "There must be another reason for this," he said. "Yes, another reason," I stared at him. "But whatever that reason is, the only one who died was my mom." Richard's face changed instantly. "What did you say?" I looked at him and said, "My mom died."