Chapter 2

My mother was a woman of her word—within a week, the first detailed invoice was ready.

She held up her phone, breaking down every single line item with sickening precision.

"Utilities and heating this month came out to $1,000. Groceries were $5,000. Household supplies like paper towels, soaps, and toiletries were $1,800. Gas for the cars was $300. That brings the total to $8,100."

"Divided evenly among the three of us, your share comes out to exactly $2,700."

She turned her icy gaze toward me. "How do you plan to settle this balance?"

My chest tightened so hard it hurt.

$2,700.

That was nearly two whole months' worth of my usual living expenses.

And my entire bank account held barely $3,000.

I looked up, meeting her eyes. "Is this the bill for the entire month?"

"Yes, obviously."

"I've only lived in this house for one week. Why am I paying for a full month?"

"Calculating by the day is too much of a headache..."

My mother rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Besides, we're family. Why are you making such a big deal over who pays a little more or a little less?"

I refused to back down an inch.

"You're the one who demanded a strict split. A split only works if it's fair."

With the tension in the room dropping below freezing, my father stepped in once again.

He waved his hand with an easy, dismissive gesture. "Alright, alright! Let's just let Riley pay for one week this time around. I'll cover the rest of her share."

Listening to him, I didn't feel a shred of gratitude.

I shouldn't have been on the hook for that money in the first place.

What did he mean, "he'd cover the rest for me"?

Still, I had bigger fish to fry and no time to squabble over petty details.

"What about this $300 gas bill?"

"I don't even have a driver's license. Why am I paying for gas?"

My mother's face instantly twisted.

"What is wrong with you? Just because you don't drive doesn't mean you don't ride in the cars!"

"Transportation is a shared household utility. Of course it gets split."

"Your father drives everyone around and hasn't charged you a single cent for his time as a chauffeur. What's the problem with you chipping in for some gas?"

My voice remained deadpan. "I have never stepped foot in any of your cars. Even on the day you brought me here, I took the public bus."

"Just because you haven't yet doesn't mean you won't in the future! Gas is a household expense, and it will be shared equally. End of discussion."

Seeing that logic wasn't working, she simply bulldozed over my objections.

Knowing she still held my vital legal documents hostage, I didn't dare push her too far.

I had to bite the bullet and play the fool for now.

"One week comes out to exactly $675. Are you using Venmo or PayPal?"

While speaking, she had already pulled up her payment QR code.

$675.

Right down to the exact dollar.

She made sure she wouldn't lose a single cent, and made damn sure I wouldn't gain a single penny.

She was more calculating than a predatory loan shark.

"Notification: $675 transferred via PayPal."

I held up my phone, showing her that the funds had cleared.

My mother glanced at her updated balance with deep satisfaction and offered some "motherly" advice:

"If it hurts your wallet that much, try cutting back on daily waste. Take shorter showers, turn off the lights, and don't touch the AC unless necessary."

"Don't underestimate these small habits! A penny saved is a penny earned—it adds up to big numbers over a month."

I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white.

Just one more month.

I only had to endure this hell for one more month, get my legal papers back, and leave this wretched place forever.