I seized the moment. "Let's table all that for now. Just give me the money for the New Year shopping, and I'll go pick everything up."

Honestly? I wasn't planning to boycott the whole thing.

I just needed to know—given everything—how much Mom would actually hand over. How much she expected me to cover this time.

It wasn't that I refused to contribute. I just refused to be treated like an idiot.

In previous years, the New Year haul ran well over ten thousand dollars. Even if Mom didn't track every price tag, she knew the ballpark. She had to.

If she gave me five thousand, I'd let it go. I'd stop keeping score.

Mom hemmed and hawed for what felt like an eternity before finally sending the transfer.

I glanced at my phone.

Two hundred dollars.

Two hundred. That wouldn't even cover the rounding error.

The disappointment hit like a punch to the sternum. She knew. Of course she knew. She was just playing dumb—because as long as she pretended not to notice everything I'd poured into this family, she didn't have to reciprocate.

And if she didn't give me enough, well, I'd just make up the difference myself. Right?

The old me would have. But now that I understood exactly where I stood with her?

Not a chance.

I spent every last cent of that two hundred. Not a penny more.

When I walked through the door, the look on Mom's face shifted from eager anticipation to something approaching cardiac arrest.

"Tania! I gave you money for New Year shopping—we have a house full of people and THIS is what you come back with?"

I shrugged, the picture of helpless resignation. "Budget constraints. My hands were tied."

While everyone exchanged bewildered glances, my nephew broke the silence first.

"Where's my game console? You said I was getting a game console!"

I ruffled his hair. "Be good, okay? Auntie's broke."

Stan Fox shot to his feet, palm slamming against the table. "Tania, don't push your luck! Mom gave you money and you buy this pathetic haul—who do you think you're fooling? We all know what things used to look like!"

His voice climbed higher. "Did you pocket Mom's cash? You're a grown woman—is this really the hill you want to die on over a few bucks?"

He wasn't done. "And what's the big deal about buying your own nephew a game console? When did you turn into such an ingrate? It's pocket change!"

I let a beat pass before responding, my tone flat. "That console costs three thousand dollars. Since it's no big deal to you, why don't you send me a red envelope for three thousand right now? Pocket change, like you said."

Mom materialized at my elbow, dabbing at nonexistent tears. "I raised you with my own two hands—I never expected greatness, but I didn't think you'd nickel-and-dime your own family. You're breaking my heart."

She pressed on. "You and Stan grew up together, flesh and blood. What's wrong with a sister helping her brother out a little? That's just how family works."

The relatives who'd been eyeing the conspicuously meager spread piled on.

"Tania, I always thought you were such a good girl. How could you do something like this?"

I drew a slow breath.

"Mom. What I've 'helped out' with isn't 'a little.' You think money grows on trees for me?"

I ticked off the items on my fingers. "I won't even mention the furniture and household odds and ends. The three hundred thousand Stan borrowed for his house. The hundred thousand for Daisy's wedding jewelry. The two hundred forty thousand for their renovations. Lee Fox's clothes and toys—tens of thousands, easy. And every New Year, between the shopping and the red envelopes? Tens of thousands more."

My voice didn't waver. "All these years I've been working, I've allowed myself two thousand a month for living expenses. Two thousand. Everything else went straight into propping up this family. Did you ever—once—stop to consider me?"

Mom's mouth opened and closed. "You... you earn more. Your brother isn't as successful as—"

I didn't let her finish. I pulled out my phone. "Since nobody's satisfied, let me solve that. I'll transfer your two hundred back. I'm returning everything I bought. As for the New Year shopping?"

I met Stan's eyes.

"That's on you now."

"After all, with only a two-hundred-dollar budget and so many demands, I really can't deliver. The capable should do the heavy lifting—I'll just have to be the useless one."

"Oh, and since I'm so incompetent, remember to pay back all that money I've given you over the years. You wouldn't want to watch me starve on the streets, would you?"

The moment the words left my mouth, I transferred the two hundred dollars to Mom.

She was so furious she could barely speak. "You—!"

Stan steadied her with a hand on her arm. "Mom, just leave it to me. I'll take care of everything perfectly."

"Don't waste your energy on this ungrateful brat. She wants to nickel-and-dime you and refuse to lift a finger? From now on, leave these things to me."

"So what if she spent a little money? Big deal. I won't ask you for a single extra cent!"

I couldn't help but laugh coldly. We'll see if you keep that promise.

What I didn't expect was that Stan actually came back with a haul.

The relatives gathered around, eyes widening at the trunk packed full of New Year goods. "Stan really is the pillar of this family! Look at that problem-solving ability—absolutely unmatched."

"Everyone kept saying Tania was doing so well for herself, but if you ask me, she can't hold a candle to Stan. Capable and filial—you couldn't find a better son if you searched with a lantern."

"Sons are the ones you can count on. Daughters, no matter how successful, are just going to marry out eventually. Their hearts aren't with us."

They peered into the trunk, oohing and aahing. Every item was a premium brand. There was even a case of Moutai.

Mom basked in the praise, her smile never faltering.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she turned and shot me a sidelong glance. "Too bad I also gave birth to an ungrateful wretch. Should've never had her. All she does is make everyone miserable."

I didn't bother responding. I was too busy wondering how Stan had managed to buy all this with two hundred dollars.

Given that he'd tried to scam money off me just to buy his wife's wedding jewelry, I didn't believe for a second he'd willingly dip into his own pocket for this.

I crouched down and started examining the pile of goods on the ground. It didn't take long to spot the problems.

No production dates on the packaging. Seals that had clearly been broken and resealed. Knockoffs from God knows where.

More likely, only the packaging was real—and whatever was inside came from somewhere I didn't want to think about.

Just as I was inspecting the goods, Mom yanked me aside.

"Ungrateful thing! Don't you dare touch what your brother bought!"

I rolled my eyes. "I wouldn't dream of it. I just hope you all have the fortune to enjoy it."

Mom's teeth clenched so hard I could hear them grind. "You little—what's that supposed to mean?!"

I shrugged. "Nothing. Just wishing you all the best."

She glared at me, speechless with rage, until Stan cut in. "Mom, why bother with her?"

He pulled the case of Moutai from the trunk and announced to the relatives, "One bottle for everyone here—except Tania."

I let out a cold laugh. "Please. Don't waste it on me. I couldn't handle such blessings."

The moment he finished speaking, the relatives descended on the goods like locusts. Within minutes, only a few empty cardboard boxes remained.

They walked away beaming, unable to contain their delight.

It wasn't long before Mom rounded on me again, eyes blazing. "You ungrateful wretch! Look at your brother—he's the one willing to sacrifice for this family. What good are you?!"

I shrugged, utterly indifferent. "Since you think he's so much more reliable, go to him for everything from now on. And don't come to me—especially when it involves money."

"And when it comes to taking care of Mom in her old age, that's on you too. Don't come crawling back to me later, crying and begging for help."

Stan's face darkened instantly. Before I could react, his palm cracked across my cheek. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Tania? You trying to cut ties with Mom?"

"She worked herself to the bone raising you! And now you're going to nickel-and-dime her? Don't you dare forget how she used to collect scrap—picking up plastic bottles one by one—just to put you through school!"

Oh, I remembered. But what I remembered even more clearly was that Stan had been such a terrible student he'd dropped out because he simply couldn't hack it.

Mom always said she collected scrap to pay for my education. But in the end? She spent a hundred thousand dollars pulling strings to land Stan a job.

Meanwhile, I survived on ten dollars a week. When my period came, I couldn't even afford pads—I made do with toilet paper.

When I nearly had to drop out because I couldn't scrape together tuition, I went to Mom for help. She just dabbed at her tears and sighed, "Tania, sweetheart, you know how tight things are. I work so hard but I just can't make enough. I'm useless, I know."

Then came the kicker: "Maybe you should just quit school. You're a girl—you'll get married eventually anyway. Might as well start working now."

In the end, I spent my entire break working in another province. One month of labor, alone, just to cover tuition.

I knew how hard-won my education was. From that day forward, I made myself a promise: I would make something of myself. I would take Mom and Stan somewhere better, give them a life worth living.

It wasn't until later that I learned the truth—the same mother who "couldn't afford" my tuition had somehow produced a hundred thousand dollars for Stan's job placement.

And somehow, I became the one responsible for everything. The moment I showed even a flicker of reluctance, out came the guilt: Remember how hard Mom worked to put you through school?

But even with all that resentment simmering inside me, I was still grateful. She raised me on her own. That counted for something.

So for years, I poured money into this family. I knew exactly how much I'd given—I just never kept score. I had the means now; helping out felt like the right thing to do.

All I wanted in return was for them to see it. To value me. Just a little.

But the moment I saw Mom's attitude—that entitled assumption that my money, my effort, my everything was simply owed to her—something in me snapped.

I refused to be their ATM anymore.

Everything I had, I'd built with my own two hands. No one carried me here. Stan dropped out because he couldn't cut it. Mom worked multiple jobs to set him up. I never owed anyone a damn thing.

I wasn't naive enough to expect equal treatment. I just wanted her heart to lean my way—even slightly. Even a fraction would have been enough.

But once again, I was disappointed.

Mom's voice exploded at me: "I wasted my life raising you! I don't want to see your face ever again—get out! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

She shoved me toward the door, hands rough against my back, and slammed it shut behind me.

The day before New Year's Eve, my brother slapped me across the face, and my mother threw me out like garbage.

But you know what? I was done caring.

I checked into a five-star hotel. Two thousand a night.

The old me would never have spent money like this. I'd always thought about Mom and Stan first—I need to give them a better life, I can't be selfish.

Now? I just wanted to love myself for once.

After my bath, I sprawled across the king-sized bed, mindlessly scrolling through my phone.

Stan had updated his social media. A family photo—him, his wife, their kid, and Mom.

Everyone beaming. Radiant. Complete.

Not one of them seemed to notice someone was missing.