Before my mom could respond, Lilith frowned. “Claire, how can you talk to your mom like that? You’re an adult still living at home, relying on others. How do you justify talking to her like this?”

My mom, catching on to what I meant, cried even harder. “Your dad passed away early, and I worked so hard to raise you. And this is how you repay me? Claire, have you lost your conscience?”

I sneered, “You’re mistaken, Lilith. I have my own place. The only reason I’ve been staying here is because Mom said Richard doesn’t make much, and since you refuse to work, the family needed extra support. As for relying on others—that’s never been the case for me.”

My mom’s face twisted, and she dropped the fake tears, slapping me hard across the face. “Don’t you dare spread lies! When did I ever say that?”

Ethan smirked, watching me get hit. “Serves you right!”

My cheek stung, but I didn’t flinch. “You know what you said, Mom.”

“Know what?” she yelled back, furious. “Claire, you’re so ungrateful! After all these years, this is how you repay me?”

“Mom, don’t try to guilt-trip me. Cutting ties was your decision, not mine,” I said coolly. “No matter what you say, I’m adopting that child.”

I turned and walked away, ignoring her wails and curses about how I’d get hit by a car and die.

To outsiders, my mom was the picture of kindness—easygoing and always smiling. But with me, she was venomous, wishing me dead with every harsh word. I used to think I just couldn’t make her happy, but now I see she’d prefer me dead, just to get her hands on my money.

I didn’t even bother packing a bag. I went straight back to my own place, which I hadn’t visited in ages. A thick layer of dust covered everything, so I spent the night cleaning. By the time I collapsed on the sofa, exhausted, I finally felt a sense of peace.

When I first bought this place, my mom was furious. She thought, as a girl, I had no business buying a house. If I had money, it should go to Richard so our family could get a bigger place. I usually listened to her, but this time, I didn’t. I bought the house in secret. When she found out, she stormed over, kicking me down in front of everyone and calling me shameless for “wasting” the family’s money.

People tried to intervene, but she chased them away with insults. Her words still ring in my ears: “Who do you think you are? Just because you’ve made a little money, you think you’re better than me? I raised you, and every penny you earn should go to me and Richard! How dare you make decisions on your own? You ungrateful brat!”

She acted like it was my duty to hand over everything I earned. To her, they were the righteous ones, and I was nothing more than an ant underfoot.

Back then, I was just sad, swallowing my anger. She demanded I sell the house, but I refused. We were at an impasse for a long time until she finally gave in—on the condition that I move back home. The house would stay in my name for now, but I was expected to transfer ownership to Ethan as soon as he came of age.

But now, given this second chance at life, I no longer care about the family affection I once clung to. They can call me unfilial all they want—I just want to live my life on my own terms.

My mom bombarded me with calls and nasty texts, but I ignored them. The next day, I consulted with some experts and went to the orphanage to start the adoption process.

Among the children, I noticed a tiny, frail girl sitting all alone on the steps in the corner, watching the other kids play with a timid expression. She reminded me so much of myself as a child—wearing Richard’s old, worn-out clothes, feeling lonely and helpless.

The director told me that her entire family had perished in a fire. There were six people in the family, and she was the only one who survived, shielded by her parents. Her relatives saw her as a burden and had no choice but to send her to the orphanage.

Her name is Sophie, and she's just three years old. Her big, clear eyes were filled with confusion. I crouched down in front of her, extended my hand, and gently asked, “Sophie, would you like to come home with me?”

She hesitated, staring at my hand, clearly scared. But with the director's encouragement, she slowly placed her tiny hand in mine and softly said, “Auntie.”

At that moment, tears welled up in my eyes. It felt like I was looking back in time, as if someone was reaching out to my younger self. But there was no one back then. Now, I can be that person for her.

After going through the experience of death, I realized it's not that I can't let go of family ties—I'm just afraid of being lonely and don't want to be alone.

The adoption process is complicated and takes about a month. I promised Sophie I'd come back to pick her up, telling her to eat well and sleep well until then. She agreed.

Maybe it's not just that she needs me; I need her too.

When I returned home, I found a crowd gathered outside my place. My mother was there, screaming at the top of her lungs like someone being attacked, “Claire, you coward! You won't come out, will you? I'll sue you, and I'll make sure your bosses at work know what kind of heartless, shameless person you are!”

“If you don't come out today, I'll die right here, and it'll be on you! I'll make sure you never show your face in public again!”

Her wailing was deafening. She was sitting on the ground, hair a mess, with a bucket of red paint next to her.

“Everyone, look at this! I raised her, I paid for her education, and now she's turning her back on me, driving me to my death!”