Chapter 4

Marcus didn't lie to me.

The new apartment was next to the school, only a ten-minute walk.

The entire balcony faced south, and when the sunlight poured in through the windows, it made me squint.

I stood on the balcony for ten minutes.

Just stood there, doing nothing, letting the sun warm me.

It wasn't until tears fell onto the back of my hand that I realized I was crying.

I didn't know why, only that there was a fire in my heart that needed to be released.

I cried for a while, wiped my face, and went back inside.

A row of new books sat on the desk; Leo had brought them last night.

Books on law and textbooks for school, all neatly arranged.

I sniffed the scent of the pages; they smelled fresh.

When Marcus pushed open the door with breakfast, I was sitting at the desk, staring blankly at the new books.

He glanced at me, said nothing, placed breakfast on the table, and went to the kitchen for forks.

I watched him clumsily pour milk into a bowl, spilling a little on the table, then wiping it with a cloth.

"What are you looking at? Eat."

I sat at the table and took a bite of a churro.

It was crispy.

I took another bite.

I didn't have good table manners.

No one had ever taught me table etiquette.

Eating was for living, and living meant shoving food into my mouth as quickly as possible because I didn't know when the next meal would be.

Once, Mom made a table full of food. I was ravenous, ate too fast, and choked.

I coughed desperately, my face turning crimson.

Mom glanced at me and said, "Like a starving ghost, so embarrassing."

I ran to the kitchen myself, turned on the faucet, and drank several gulps of water until I swallowed what was stuck.

A flicker of an unreadable emotion crossed Marcus's eyes.

"Chloe, do you hate your parents?"

I thought about it.

I matured early.

I wasn't as sweet-talking as Lily; I couldn't sweetly call out "Mommy" and "Daddy."

I loved reading, and when those facts drilled into my mind, I even thought I was sick.

I went to tell my parents, but they thought I was a weirdo.

"What garbage are you reading? What if it messes up your brain?"

"Stop reading, go wash the dishes."

In their eyes, reading was the most useless thing.

When I came home with an award for first place in my class,

Mom was braiding Lily's hair and didn't even look up: "Just put it there."

I placed it on the table, hoping she'd glance at it.

The next day, I found it crumpled up in the trash can, discarded with the garbage.

I picked up the award, smoothed it out, and pressed it under my pillow.

"What is hate?"

Marcus was silent for a moment, then peeled a boiled egg for me.

"None of that matters."

"Chloe, you must study hard. Go to the best university, get the best grades. Later, you can do whatever you want, without having to cater to anyone's whims."

"When you become a lawyer, I'll be your security guard."

Frank acted fast. He got me into the city's best private middle school.

Tuition was fifty thousand a year, not including miscellaneous fees or uniform costs.

I didn't know how much debt Marcus and his crew had to collect to earn fifty thousand dollars.

When he dropped me off at school, he even slipped a wad of cash into my pocket.

"You don't have to worry about money. Just study. Study hard, and later you can help me with my cases."

He instructed me gruffly.

I nodded, standing at the school gate, looking back at him.

I suddenly remembered when I used to attend school, and they'd ask for material fees.

Mom would always give me half the money, saying we were struggling.

Later, I learned to be smart, saving my lunch money to pay for materials.

That way, Mom wouldn't complain daily about me being expensive.

The sun shone on Marcus, a small section of his dragon tattoo peeking out from his shirt collar.

The homeroom teacher led me to the classroom and gestured for me to introduce myself.

I was silent for a moment before I spoke: "My name is Chloe, and I like to read."

I didn't know what else to say.

Before, at school, even the teachers preferred the sweet-talking Lily.

Teachers never called on me, and classmates never spoke to me.

I was an invisible presence.

The homeroom teacher smiled and asked, "What kind of books do you like to read?"

I thought for a moment and decided to tell the truth: "Law books."

The classroom fell silent for a second, then erupted in laughter.

"Law? Hahahaha!"

"Is she a lawyer?"

"Reading law books at twelve? Who's she trying to impress?"

The homeroom teacher clapped the desk: "Quiet! Quiet! Every student has different hobbies, and we must respect each other."

The laughter subsided, but the whispering didn't stop.

Bearing everyone's gaze, I sat down in the last row.

I lowered my head, focusing on my textbook.

The words blurred then sharpened before my eyes, sharpened then blurred again.

I didn't cry.

I couldn't cry.

Just like that, my life seemed to get back on track.

Every day, I listened attentively in class. After school, I read books.

In the evenings, I'd read legal knowledge to Marcus.

Though every time, he'd usually just clean his ears and snore loudly.

But I really liked this kind of life.

During the first placement test, I got the top score.

I held my report card, carefully tucking it into my backpack.

I wanted to go back and show it to Marcus.

But after a quick trip to the restroom, I returned to find my backpack thrown on the floor.

Its contents spilled everywhere.

A few boys were stepping on my books, their voices mocking.

"She just transferred and got first place? Probably cheated."

"Guys, let's rip up all her books. See how she copies then."