Chapter 2

He introduced himself as OG Marcus, then crouched down to my eye level.

I could clearly see the scar on his chin and my reflection in his pupils.

"Who taught you to say all that?"

I shook my head, fighting back my fear as I answered word by word: "I taught myself."

He scrutinized me from head to toe, his suspicious gaze sweeping over my malnourished arms.

"Did your parents often hit you?"

I shook my head.

They didn't hit me. They just acted like I didn't exist.

There was no plate for me at the dinner table, no face in family photos, and no one cared when I got sick.

Once, I had a fever of 104°F and couldn't get out of bed.

My mom glanced at me and said, "Stop pretending. You just want to be lazy."

Then she took Lily shopping.

I lay in bed for three days before I finally pulled through.

Marcus came knocking to collect debts while I was hiding in the corner reading.

It was a Civil Code I'd picked up from the trash.

A corner of the cover was missing, and I'd taped it up.

I'd read the words inside so many times I could recite them by heart.

Beside me, my parents and Lily were packing luggage.

Since I could remember, they'd argued and thrown things in front of me, then disappeared with Lily.

Before each disappearance, they'd always say the same thing: this kid isn't as likable as Lily; bringing her along is just a hassle.

So every time, I was the one left behind.

When my parents returned after fleeing debts, they'd always look at me with a strange gaze and sigh.

Later, I understood it was disappointment.

Disappointment that I was still alive and well, disappointment that they had to support this burden of a child again.

I looked up into Marcus's eyes.

They were fierce, but I'd seen fiercer.

My dad's eyes after losing money, like he was looking at trash.

"My parents have owed debts for over a decade. Our house was full of legal documents. I had nothing else to do, so I read them."

A piece of moldy bread and a book, and a day would pass.

I paused, then added, "I started reading when I was three."

I wasn't boasting.

My parents had abandoned me to these people. If I couldn't prove my usefulness, I might be sold off.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve."

Marcus looked at me, his eyes full of suspicion.

The hallway light flickered. He stood up and waved his hand.

"Frank, bring all our IOUs. Let our big shot lawyer take a look."

I don't know how long passed, my legs were numb from squatting.

Frank finally carried over a cardboard box.

It was heavy, landing on the floor with a thud.

Inside were IOUs, contracts, and transfer records, all haphazardly crammed together.

Marcus patted the box, nodding at me.

"Big shot, show us what you've got."