A week later, while I was handling my job resignation handover, I received a call from my father, Roland Sullivan.

"Come home, Vivian," he said in a tone that left no room for refusal.

"I'm busy. If you've got something to say, say it over the phone."

"Your mother has been hospitalized for high blood pressure."

He paused, then added, "Come back and see her."

My chest tightened sharply, but I quickly regained my composure. "Is it serious?"

"She needs to recuperate. As her daughter, shouldn't you come back and take care of her?" he replied reproachfully.

"I can't get away—I'm busy with work."

"Is work more important than your own mother?"

"Yes," I replied calmly. "Because Mom has Harry to take care of her, while I only have my work."

Heavy breathing came from the other end of the line.

"Vivian, are you abandoning your parents over just a bit of money?"

"Dad, that wasn't 'just a bit of money.' That was the family's entire fortune," I corrected him. "That money was the security for my marriage, yet you destroyed it with your own hands."

"It's our money! We can give it to whoever we want!" he roared.

"Exactly," I said with a nod. "So, my time and energy are mine to give to whomever I want as well. And right now, I want to give them to my career."

"Why you—" Dad was so angry that he was left speechless.

"Besides, why can't you take care of Mom? And what about your precious Harry? He just received six million dollars from you, so shouldn't he be the one taking care of her?"

"You ingrate!"

"Dad, let me do the math for you," I said coldly. "I'll lose nearly five thousand dollars for just one day of leave. Add in the round-trip plane tickets and the work disruption, and each trip back home will cost me at least 30 thousand dollars in losses."

Dad remained silent, his breathing heavy.

"After insurance reimbursement, the out-of-pocket portion of Mom's hospitalization bill is at most a few thousand dollars. You still have your retirement savings, right? Don't tell me you can't even come up with that amount."

Suddenly, he was on guard. "How do you know we still have retirement savings?"

"So, you really did keep something in reserve." I laughed, my voice icy cold. "Last week, when Aunt Eunice said you'd given everything you had to Harry, I almost believed her."

They weren't fools, so of course they had left themselves a safety net. I was just never included in their plan.

"You gave Harry six million dollars and kept a secret stash for yourself. Yet, I—your own flesh and blood—couldn't even borrow five million dollars from you," I exclaimed emphatically. "Dad, am I really worth that little to you and Mom?"

A long silence followed.

"Vivian…" Dad seemed to want to explain.

"Don't bother," I interrupted him. "If Mom needs money for medical treatment, you have your savings. If she needs someone to take care of her, both you and Harry have plenty of time. So, it doesn't matter whether I go back or not."

"You're really not coming back?" he asked in disbelief.

"No," I said. "Take care."

I hung up the phone and blocked this number as well.

Standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Gomez Tower, I gazed out at the bustling, vibrant Summercaster's night view.

As it turned out, a daughter was nothing but an outsider in my parents' eyes. They'd rather leave their fortune to their useless nephew than give me a single penny.

Fine by me. This way, I could finally cut all emotional ties with them and truly live for myself.

Half a month later, Harry's wedding took place at the most luxurious resort in our hometown.

The extravagance was staggering. The wedding procession was all Rolls-Royces, and the bride's gown, custom-made in Yiferia, was reportedly worth a million dollars.

Some "well-meaning" relatives kept sending me the wedding photos and videos.

"Vivian, look how magnificent Harry is. Your parents must be so proud."

"Vivian, why didn't you attend the wedding? The whole family is here—you're the only one missing."

I looked at the photos. My parents were seated at the head table, their faces flowing with pride as they soaked up all the compliments from friends and relatives.

Next to them sat Harry, looking insufferably pleased with himself, as well as his gorgeous bride.

I deleted every single message expressionlessly.

The day after the wedding, my grandmother, Johanna Hancock, called me.

"Vivian, are you still angry at your parents?"

Grandma was the most reasonable person in the family.

"Hey, Grandma," I said, my tone softening a little.

"You not coming to Harry's wedding yesterday really made your parents look bad," Grandma said with a sigh. "All the relatives kept asking about you, and all your parents could say was that you were too busy with work."

"I really am busy."

"I know. I heard Charles broke up with you?"

"Yeah."

"What a shame. You two were such a good match." Grandma sighed again. "Vivian, I know you've been wronged. What your parents did was foolish. Instead of doting on you, they went and fawned over a nephew."

Grandma's words brought tears to my eyes. It was the first time since everything happened that a family member had spoken up for me.

"Grandma, I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me," Grandma retorted. "I know your father better than anyone. He's obsessed with how others perceive him. To him, carrying on the family name is everything.

"He thinks throwing Harry a lavish wedding means he's done right by the ancestors and can hold his head high in front of all the relatives."

"So, for the sake of his image, he can just sacrifice my happiness?" I retorted.

"He didn't think things would turn out like this. He's always been stubborn. But I think your mother and Dora were the ones stirring things up behind the scenes."

"It doesn't matter. What's done is done," I stated flatly.

"After having too much to drink at the wedding, your parents bragged to everyone about how the whole family envied them for buying Harry such a great villa."

Grandma's tone turned dismissive. "I scolded them. I said, 'Are you stupid? Why are you taking care of someone else's son instead of your own daughter?'"

I listened quietly.

"Your father's expression immediately darkened, and he said I wouldn't understand. Vivian, don't stoop to their level. Money comes and goes, but family is forever."

"Grandma, I'm doing this out of spite. I've just finally woken up."

"Woken up to what?"

"To the fact that I can't depend on anyone but myself," I answered. "I'll build my own career and live my own life. As for them… Well, they have their precious nephew, the one they're so proud of, to take care of them in their old age."

"Vivian…"

"Don't worry, Grandma. I'm doing well. Once my business is stable, I'll bring you to Summercaster to live with me."

"Alright, alright."

After hanging up, I looked out the window. Dawn had just broken over the horizon, the light bathing the skyscrapers in a shimmering golden glow.

I knew that from today onward, this was a path I would have to walk alone.

I turned on my laptop and sent outreach emails to several potential clients.

"Hello, I'm Vivian Sullivan, former Head of Design at Gomez Group. I have now started my own independent practice, specializing in high-end design projects, and I look forward to working with you."

To raise the startup capital for my studio as quickly as possible, I threw myself into an insane work mode.

I also moved out of my luxury apartment and into an old tenement building, cutting my rent from 12 thousand dollars down to four thousand dollars a month.

At the same time, I worked over 16 hours a day and turned down every unnecessary social activity.

All designer bags, fine dining, and luxury skincare products disappeared from my life as well. Breakfast was a sandwich from a street cart, lunch was a cheap takeout, and dinner was often just a bowl of instant noodles.

I started taking on every project I could find. Not only did I take on design work, but I also accepted brand marketing and event-planning gigs. As long as a job was legal and paid, I took it.

Within three months, I had lost 15 pounds. The dark circles under my eyes were deep, but my gaze had never been sharper.

The number in my bank account crept slowly from three million dollars to 3.7 million dollars. With every deposit, I felt myself getting one step closer to my goal.

During that time, my parents tried every way possible to reach me.

My aunt, Alice Sullivan, said, "Vivian, your mother cries every day and says she misses you."

I replied, "If she misses me, she can video call me. Oh, right. I blocked her."

My uncle, Clyde Lowry, said, "Your father hasn't been well lately. Are you trying to drive them to their death?"

I replied, "They have their retirement savings and the nephew they spent six million dollars raising. They'll be fine."

Harry even sent me a message, his tone smug and fake.

"Vivian, I heard you're going solo these days. Need any help? Tricia brought two million dollars into the marriage, so I've got plenty of cash on hand."

"No, thanks."

"Vivian, don't be mad at Uncle Roland and Aunt Gina. They're just looking out for me. How about this? I'll wire you five thousand dollars every month. Think of it as my way of supporting your business."

I let out a cold laugh at his condescending tone. "Harry, are you having fun spending that six million dollars? Is the Rolls-Royce comfortable to drive? Are you getting used to living in the villa?"

"Vivian, what do you mean by that?" Harry asked, stunned.

"Oh, nothing. Don't worry yourself about my business. Keep your money, because you'll need it to take care of my parents in their old age. After all, you're their most successful investment."

With that, I blocked him and got peace at last.

…

At the end of the year, I landed a large-scale brand design project, with a fee of 800 thousand dollars.

The client gave me special recognition at the project wrap-up meeting.

"Thanks to Ms. Sullivan's design, we've seen at least a 30% increase in our brand's ability to command higher prices."

I took the check and ran the numbers in my head—this 800 thousand dollars plus what I'd already saved brought me to 4.5 million dollars.

Just 500 thousand dollars more to go.

That was when I ran into Charles at the client's office. He was attending the meeting as a representative of the partner company.

He looked at me with a complicated gaze. "Vivian, I heard you started your own business?"

"That's right, Mr. Gomez."

"Why put yourself through all this hardship?" he said with a hint of pity in his voice. "If you need help—"

I smiled and cut him off, "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm doing just fine."

After the meeting ended, Charles stopped me and said, "Vivian, I heard about what happened in your family."

"It's all water under the bridge now."

He was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, "What if we started over?"

I stopped walking and looked at the man I had once loved for five years.

"Charles, there's no way we can go back to the way we were before," I replied calmly.

"Why not? Aren't you already independent now? As for my parents, I can talk to—"

"Back then, I wanted to marry into wealth," I interrupted him. "But now I've come to realize becoming wealthy myself is far more interesting."

Charles was stunned.

"I wish you happiness," I said and turned away.

That night, I dreamed of us in college.

Charles asked me what my dream was after graduation. I said I wanted to have my own design studio and to do the kind of design I truly loved.

When I woke up, I discovered that my pillow was damp.

I opened my mobile banking app and looked at the balance—4.5 million dollars.

Very soon, I would reach my goal.