"Get out! It's because of you that your father divorced me! If I had known, I wouldn't have bothered giving birth to you!"

With a furious shout, a glass flew at me.

I quickly ducked, the cup shattering into a million pieces on the floor.

Fragments sliced across my ankle, leaving a trail of blood.

I didn't bother to respond; I'd grown used to her screams and rage.

After picking up the shards of glass, I stood up, locked the door behind me, and headed out to the office.

My mother, Miranda Sinclair, had spiraled into bipolar disorder ever since her divorce from my father. Sometimes, she'd ignore me completely, while other times, her glare pierced through me like daggers, filled with a hatred that felt like it could scorch.

The doctor had suggested I send her to a psychiatric ward for treatment, but I knew that place was no sanctuary.

Out of respect for our mother-daughter bond, I brought her back to the house we once shared.

Yet now, as I looked around at the chaos and at my mother's twisted expression, doubt began creeping into my mind. Was it really right to keep her here?

As I approached the company entrance, I spotted my father, Greyson Parry, someone I hadn't seen in quite a while.

An overwhelming surge of anger bubbled up inside me at the mere sight of him. My feelings toward my father had long been tainted with disgust and loathing.

I remembered the day I was ecstatic to show him the award I received from school, only to find him strutting in with his mistress, ready to announce his divorce from Miranda.

At the peak of his career, he had exuded confidence, flaunting his designer watch, a stark contrast to my mother's worn-out clothes and our dilapidated home.

Miranda had screamed at him, calling him worthless, but her words fell on deaf ears.

After the divorce, he cut ties with Miranda but attempted to keep in touch with me in secret.

He even tried to lay claim to my gift money for marriage, expecting me to fork over money so he could live comfortably with his new partner.

No way, not a chance! I had to pay 20 thousand dollars just to sever our ties completely.

How ridiculous was it that twenty-plus years of father-daughter relationship boiled down to a mere 20 thousand dollars?

"What do you want? Didn't I make it clear? We have no relationship anymore," I snapped.

"We're still family. I'm your dad. There shouldn't be any distance between us," Greyson said, a disingenuous smile spreading across his face.

I shot him a cold stare, recognizing the desperation in his eyes. He was clearly short on cash again.

"Oh really? Funny, I don't remember you being so keen on family when I begged you for tuition money or to help Mom with her medical bills," I retorted.

"That was in the past, but look here. I brought you some mangoes! You can't stay mad over something so little, right?"

Greyson was attempting to apologize, but the undercurrent of resentment in his tone was unmistakable.

I had been allergic to mangoes since childhood; if I consumed even a tiny bit, it could send me into shock. Greyson was my father, yet he didn't even know that about me.

"What do you want?" I asked sharply.

"Honestly, I'm in a bit of a financial bind. I heard your husband's family is wealthy. Could you ask him for 50 thousand dollars to tide me over? I promise I'll pay it back as soon as I can. Think of it as you honoring your old man."

"Not a chance!" I seethed, trying to walk away, only to have Greyson block my path.

With an angry flush, he shouted, "Everyone, come here! I've got a tragedy in my family! My ungrateful daughter refuses to help me with a little living expense. Can you believe this? She's got the heart of a wolf!"

Instantly, a crowd gathered around me, pointing fingers as if I were the most despicable villain in their midst.

I looked at the familiar face of my father, yet it felt foreign and suffocating at this moment.

How could he stand there in public, publicly berating and slandering me, all for the sake of squeezing out the last drop of value from me?

I couldn't help but smile as I pulled out the proof of parental disownment I had bought for 20 thousand dollars, brandishing it for everyone to see.

"Look closely, everyone! He's the one who signed this document to sever our ties! He was the one who cheated and left his wife and kids! Now he's harassing me for money, demanding a whopping 100 thousand dollars! I'm just a lowly staff member. He's trying to squeeze the life out of me!"

Pretending to be sad, I forced out a couple of tears.

Sure enough, people tended to lean towards the seemingly weaker side.

Watching me, they seemed to believe I was genuine, and soon, the crowd turned their accusations towards Greyson. Some even pulled out their phones, ready to document his misdeeds.

Realizing the tide had turned against him, Greyson panicked and lashed out.

"Victoria! I raised you! I may not have done it with great flair, but I've put in my share of effort. You owe me!"

He pointed an accusatory finger at me, his voice dripping with indignation.

Hearing his old, tired arguments only fueled my determination.

I tossed the document at him. "Greyson, open your eyes! You signed this proof of disownment with your own hand, which means I, Victoria, have no obligation to give you another dime from this moment forward."

"But I'm still your father!" Greyson shouted.

"Yes, you are by blood! But let's be real. You contributed nothing more than sperm to my upbringing. Mom raised me entirely on her own! All you've ever done is keep your hand out for money. What else can you possibly offer?"

"You'll regret this!" Greyson fumed, his face red with anger.

The crowd, now emboldened, began to jeer at him. Greyson, realizing he was losing this battle, spat on the ground in frustration and hastily made his exit, muttering under his breath.

Even though I was married now, with a loving husband by my side, the pain of my upbringing still lingered in my heart.

I often wondered why my parents disliked me so much yet still chose to have me.

It wasn't until I overheard my mother, who had always doted on me, boasting proudly to others, that I understood.

"Having a daughter is never a loss. Just feed her some scraps, and she'll be grateful. Once she learns to help out, I'll earn back what I spent on her. And when she gets married, there'll be nice money, too.

"Girls are so soft-hearted. A little kindness goes a long way. They'll be thankful, and I won't have to worry about retirement. Besides, if I ever lose my husband's love, at least I'll have my little girl to hold onto."

From that moment on, the loudest phrases ringing in my ears were. "Victoria, having you was a tough road! I nearly met the Grim Reaper! You must appreciate me, alright?

"As you grow up, remember to cherish your mother and father. Always be grateful."

Listening to these words as I grew up, I slowly convinced myself I owed them a great debt.

Whenever they gave me money, I would scrimp and save every penny.

They praised me for being sensible and frugal.

I took on all the chores, washing dishes, cooking, doing laundry, cleaning the house. Every time I returned home, I would scramble to find work to do, as if that would somehow atone for what I believed I owed them.

But now, I realized they had wrapped their words in a warm embrace, subtly planting seeds of guilt in my heart.

Their ultimate goal was for me to serve them for a lifetime, to give without end.

Even my name, Victoria Perry, was a deception.

Miranda claimed it was a blessing: a name that represented strength and good fortune.

Yet, I discovered from Greyson, during one of his drunken rants, that it was merely a name he chose after losing a bet.

To him, I was nothing more than a daughter to exploit, a pawn in his twisted game.

As I walked through the door, exhausted after a long day, a text message from my husband, George Tooker, lit up my screen and my face.

[Hey, babe. Got to stay late at the office tonight. There's some strawberry cake in the fridge for you. Don't forget to eat it. Love you.]

I replied, then headed to the kitchen. The sight of the strawberry cake in the fridge made my heart skip a beat.

I took a bite, the sweet and cold taste filling my mouth, and closed my eyes in satisfaction.

After finishing the cake, I noticed George's suit jacket draped over a chair.

I decided to wash it, but as I reached into the pocket, something hard caught my attention.

Pulling it out, I realized it was a love letter.

My eyes scanned the words, and my stomach churned.

I couldn't believe what I was reading. I rushed to the bathroom and vomited.

As I caught my breath, I took a photo of the letter with my phone.

George was always on his phone, and I had access to a lot of his information.

When I found the corresponding messages in his chat history, I felt my world shatter.

[Baby, I will only love you in this lifetime.]

Tears streamed down my face as I crouched on the floor, sobbing.

My husband, the man I had loved for over half a year, had cheated on me with another man.

I was a gay wife.

Memories of our first meeting flooded my mind. George had appeared in front of me in a suit, handing me an umbrella.

I had felt so warm and safe in his presence, the scent of sandalwood surrounding him.

But now, everything had changed. My mother, who I thought loved me deeply, had only used me to keep Greyson around.

And now, George, who I thought loved me, had abandoned me.

The emotional turmoil was making my chest ache.

As I slowly stood up, my back aching from being crouched for too long, I steadied myself against the wall and took a few deep breaths to calm the storm raging inside me.

It dawned on me that our intimate moments over the past six months had been few and far between, always rushed and never satisfying.

Not because George was tired from work, but because he wasn't interested in me at all.

I couldn't imagine where George was now, whether he was busy with work or something else.

Just as I was trying to figure out how to track George's whereabouts, his mother, Ada Tooker, knocked on our door.

"Ada? What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised.

Ada was a strong and busy woman who rarely visited us at home.

"I'm here to catch that cheating bastard George!" Ada snarled, her tone making me step back.

"What do you mean, 'catch him'?"

"I mean, George is about to shit on your head, and you're just standing there! Who's his wife, you or me?!" Ada exclaimed, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards her car.

"Ada, you... you know?" I asked, incredulous.

I thought, "How could Ada know about George's secret when I have just discovered it?"

"Don't worry about that. Just follow me," Ada said, her voice firm.

"But Ada, where can we find George? I can't get through to him on the phone."

"Now, gather your courage. When we find George, just slap him. I'll take care of the rest."

I nodded, still confused about Ada's sudden change in attitude.

I thought, "George is her favorite son. Why is she acting like this now?"