Chapter 3

He noticed me and looked visibly surprised.

After looking me up and down, a mocking smirk spread across his face. "Well, look at you. Not as dumb as I thought. You actually tracked us down!"

I froze. So, he knew about my existence all along.

"Why?" my voice cracked. "Why are you all doing this to me?"

"Lucas... am I adopted? Or is this some twisted psychological experiment, and I'm just your lab rat?"

Lucas tilted his head back and wagged a finger playfully. "Nope. You're 100% biological Miller blood. A legitimate daughter."

"As for why you were raised in the dirt? Simple. Because I am the sole heir of the Miller dynasty."

"Nora, you were born just one minute ahead of me. What made you think you were entitled to compete with me?"

"This place isn't for you. Pack your sad little pride and get lost."

"Poor thing... don't look at me like that. Mom and Dad put a lot of effort into keeping you fed, you know!"

"Oh, and by the way, don't bother visiting Grandpa and Grandma during the holidays anymore. They're getting old. They don't have the energy to play dress-up and act poor just for you."

Lucas revved the engine and zoomed through the iron gates.

I stood outside in the bitter wind for what felt like an eternity, finally putting the pieces together.

Our birth had supposedly threatened the inheritance line.

What had I done wrong? All I ever wanted was my parents' genuine, honest love.

They had deceived me for twenty-two years, yet the moments of warmth they showed me had felt so real.

Looking up at that golden mansion and that luxury bike, I couldn't help but wonder: how much of their affection was ever real?

I turned and walked away.

Before boarding the bus back, I dialed my father's number. "Dad, are you and Mom coming home for dinner tonight?"

"No, sweetie," he replied softly. "Your mom and I found an extra night shift. We want to make some extra cash while we're still young enough to pay down the debt."

Through the phone receiver, I distinctly heard the distant roar of a custom motorcycle engine.

"Okay," I whispered.

Deep inside, my mind was already made up.

Back at the apartment, I packed my few belongings and submitted an emergency application for a high-security research project posted by my university department.

The project was stationed at a remote government laboratory deep in the western desert. It would last three full years—completely isolated from the outside world, zero cellular service, and zero interruptions.

Once my bags were packed, I printed out a photo I had snapped of Lucas's motorcycle outside the mansion and set it plainly on the nightstand.

That night, neither of them came home. I was all alone in the dark apartment.

I tried calling my father one last time, but nobody picked up.

Meanwhile, Miller Global Holdings was handing out massive holiday bonuses. A junior employee boasted on Twitter about receiving a three-thousand-dollar cash envelope from the CEO.

Dozens of employees posted pictures of their lavish corporate gala on Instagram.

Right on the stage were my parents. My father looked sharp in a tailored tuxedo, a glass of champagne in his hand; my mother wore designer couture and flawless makeup, radiating high-society elegance.

Lucas stood front and center, surrounded by admirers, proudly posing for a family portrait with them.

My parents seemed convinced that I was too busy breaking my back for pocket change to ever glance at social media gossip.

They forgot that I was just an ordinary young woman. How could a girl raised in forced deprivation never browse the internet?

During a live interview, a reporter asked my father about their holiday plans.

He smiled warmly into the camera. "My son Lucas turned twenty-two this year. Every year, we take him on a luxury vacation abroad. We take off tonight!"

My heart sank into a dark, bottomless abyss.

I turned twenty-two this year, too.

Ever since high school, my parents had told me I was an adult who needed to help pay off the family debts.

The farthest trip I had ever taken was a walk to the local neighborhood park.

I let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh.

Whatever. Since they weren't home, this was the cleanest break I could ask for.

Grabbing my single suitcase, I stepped out the door without looking back.

Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Dad.

May we never meet again.