Chapter 2

The faces of everyone in the room immediately darkened.

My uncle, Michael, slammed his hand on the table. "What kind of attitude is that?! It's the holidays, you have no respect!"

I looked at him, speaking calmly and clearly, "If your 'respect' means preying on children for your amusement, then I'm sorry, but I have my own rules."

With that, I led Lily out the door.

Lily's small hand was clenched tightly in mine; I could feel her unease.

Since my parents passed away, I rarely brought Lily home for the holidays.

Maintaining superficial contact all these years was purely out of respect for my parents, to save them face.

And also to inquire about Lily's kindergarten enrollment.

But if they thought they could use that to control me, they were gravely mistaken.

Just as we reached the doorstep, Ivy ran after us.

She grabbed my arm. "Sarah, don't be like this. It's the holidays, let's not make everyone unhappy."

Her tone was gentle, but I could see calculation in her eyes.

I knew her too well.

Thirty years old and still clinging to mommy's apron strings? All because Uncle Michael promised her an old house, right?

"Sarah..."

I cut her off directly. "Ivy, if you want that old house, if you want to play dumb and be a 'filial' daughter, that's your business."

"Even if you're fifty and still haven't cut the cord, I won't care. But you're dragging my six-year-old daughter into this? Are you seriously acting like a minion now, trying to find new victims?"

Hearing "cut the cord" and "minion," Ivy's face flushed instantly.

I couldn't be bothered to waste any more words on her. I picked up Lily and headed for her car seat in the back.

But Ivy quickly followed, her voice rising, sharp and shrill. "What are you trying to prove, acting so high and mighty? You only came back because you're hoping Uncle Michael will help your daughter get into that elite elementary school, right?! Now you're pretending to be some independent modern woman!"

I buckled Lily into her seat, gently stroked her head, and prepared to drive off.

I was truly too lazy to argue with someone so foolish.

But Ivy wouldn't give up. She still clung to my car window, gritting her teeth. "Sarah! For that school spot, I don't believe you won't back down!"

I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "Family help is just a backup plan. If I really want my daughter to get in, I can just buy her a spot."

"I don't need to be like you, thirty years old, and can't fight for anything yourself except acting like a monkey."

Ivy's face turned from green to white; she was clearly deeply stung.

"What's so great about you?! You just married a good husband, your parents died early and left you an inheritance. You just got lucky with where you were born!"

I stepped on the gas, and before the window fully closed, I threw her a final line. "If you can't stand me, you can go get yourself a better life, then. It's not too late to try again."

The window closed.

In the rearview mirror, Ivy stood frozen. Then she suddenly squatted down, covering her face and weeping.

Lily, in the backseat, peered through the window at her aunt getting smaller in the distance.

She quietly asked me, "Mommy, Aunt Ivy is crying. Aren't we going to help her?"

I took a deep breath, offering Lily a gentle smile through the rearview mirror. "Honey, she's not crying because she's sad. She's crying because her designated victim was gone. And that victim was supposed to be us."

Lily nodded, seeming to understand and not understand at the same time. "Then, Mommy, we won't be a designated victim."

"That's right, we absolutely won't."

By the time we got home, darkness had completely fallen.

My husband was back in his hometown for the holidays, so it was just Lily and me at home.

The house felt empty, but free of the fake and ridiculous family drama, which brought me a sense of peace.

After tucking Lily into bed, a flurry of abusive messages from relatives popped up on my phone.

I scrolled through them emotionlessly, but then a new message caught my eye.

It was from Principal Davies of the elite elementary school.

"Lily's Mom, Happy Holidays."

"I'm so sorry to bother you, but I need to inform you about something. Our Lily's admission assessment wasn't approved. You might want to look into other schools."

I stared at the screen. It was the evening of New Year's Day, nine o'clock.

The principal of an elementary school personally messaging me during the holidays to reject my daughter's admission.

There's no such thing as coincidence in this world.