My father, Bruce Smith, had been having an affair with a model, a girl who was barely old enough to be out of her teens. My mother, Amanda Smith, completely shattered and collapsed into a flood of tears. All she could demand was a divorce. In the courtroom, the judge, with a solemn expression, looked directly at me. I was only ten years old. His voice was gentle but firm as he asked me to make an unthinkable choice, “Which parent will you live with?” Under the hopeful, pleading gaze of my mother, I chose to live with my father. “My mother can’t give me a little brother,” I complained. “Girls are too fussy. I need to help Dad take care of my brother, the one who hasn’t been born yet.” Amanda wailed, her face crumpling as she buried it in her hands. I thought, “What a performance. She’s putting on quite the show.” In my innocent mind, both she and I knew that better days were just on the horizon. The courtroom was suffocating. The judge directed a question straight at me. “Whom do you wish to live with, child?” Everyone expected me to choose Amanda. Amanda was the one who provided stability and the warmth of a mother’s love. But I didn’t. Instead, I turned my gaze toward Bruce, who stood a few feet away and caressed the belly of his mistress. Bruce looked genuinely surprised when I pointed at him, but in his eyes, I wasn’t more than a mere afterthought. After all, I was just a daughter, not the son he’d always wanted. To him, I was a placeholder, a girl who’d eventually marry off and leave the family name behind. When the judge asked for my reasons, I spoke with the innocent conviction only a child could have. “Daddy’s so pitiful. He just wants to be with Helen. What’s wrong with that? Daddy has to work hard to make money, and Helen is pregnant. I need to help Daddy take care of my little brother inside her. Mom’s always busy teaching, but she can’t have a son and won’t let Daddy have one with someone else. Mom’s the mean one.” I glanced at Mom, whose face was buried in her hands. Her body shook with sobs. But I knew better. I knew my mother. Behind those trembling fingers, she was stifling a laugh. This was all part of the plan. She played her part, and I played mine.
Suddenly, the world around me flickered out, and with a blink, I was thrust back to the very year my parents decided to part ways. Amanda had yet to discover Bruce’s affair with that young model. She hadn’t stormed into his office, confronting him. It was the dead of night, but sleep was the last thing on my mind. Time was running out. Tomorrow, Amanda would stumble upon the telltale signs of Bruce’s betrayal on his phone after he failed to come home one night. This discovery would push her past her limits, and she would decide it was time to face him and end their marriage. I sprang out of bed and raced toward the master bedroom, my small fist pounding on the door. This evening was my prime, perhaps only, chance to step in and stop the heartbreak of my history from unfolding anew. Amanda, groggy and disoriented, opened it, her eyes heavy with sleep. She looked at me, puzzled by my nighttime urgency. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Without a word, I slipped past her, quickly locking the door behind me. Sitting on her bed, I took a deep breath and let it all spill out. I told her everything because I knew, apart from myself, no one loved me more than my mother. I carefully avoided any mention of my death, which was too painful. Instead, I focused on how we could take control and stop Bruce from destroying our lives. Her eyes were welled up with tears. Sensing the words I couldn’t voice, she drew me into a tight embrace. There, in the comforting cocoon of her arms, I absorbed her warmth, finding solace in her protective hold. I looked up at her. “He’s been paranoid, installing cameras around the house, thinking you’d cheat on him, while he’s the one cheating.” Thankfully, he hadn’t stooped to putting cameras in the bedroom; otherwise, I couldn’t have safely disclosed everything to Amanda right there. I suggested she secretly collect proof and go straight for a divorce. I assured her that in court, I would opt to stay with Bruce. Watching her eyes brim with tears and her voice halting, I placed my hand over her mouth softly. “Mom, do you believe in me? I swear, I’ll see to it that you live well from now on.”
After the court hearing, I moved into a luxurious riverside villa with Bruce, slipping effortlessly into the role of the caring daughter. It wasn’t suspicion that struck me when Bruce, despite his financial troubles, managed to move into a luxurious villa; instead, I was excitedly talking about how Helen would have an easier time with the baby in a bigger house. I ran to my father, eager to show my support, insisting I would take good care of the little brother in Helen’s belly. Perhaps out of some lingering paternal affection, Bruce immediately transferred fifty thousand dollars to me, telling me to use it as I saw fit. He was quick to return to work, dropping us off before rushing off again. His haste wasn’t lost on me; I wasn’t a child, so I knew what it meant. And I bet Helen knew even better. The moment Bruce left, Helen White dropped her façade of kindness. She snapped at me, calling me shameless and scolding me for being so demanding despite my age. There was something unreadable in her eyes as she harshly pinched my forehead with her sharp nails, snatched my phone, and transferred the fifty thousand dollars Bruce had just given me to herself. She leaned in close, her voice dripping with authority, “If you dare tell your father, things will get much worse for you. Understand?” I nodded, playing the part of the frightened child, but inside, I was laughing at her transparent attempt to control me.
The next morning, I placed a simple breakfast of bread and jam on the expensive table. Bruce, fresh from his morning routine, couldn’t hide his disgust. He struggled to swallow the bland breakfast, his eyes meeting mine, full of hope. With a moment’s hesitation, he took a bite, only to spit it out immediately, his face contorting in disgust. I secretly chuckled inside; this was my specially crafted culinary disaster, designed to be unpalatable. When he finally recovered from the taste, he frowned and scolded, “Where did you get this breakfast? It’s awful. You’re old enough to buy something decent.” Then, noticing my unfit school uniform, he asked with irritation, “I gave you money to spend as you see fit. Can’t you buy a new uniform? You’re embarrassing me by going out like that.” At this point, Helen, who was awakened by the commotion, leaned lazily against the railing. Her pregnant belly was prominently visible. She watched the scene unfold with amusement. She probably thought I was getting another round of scolding. My lips curled into a slight smile, though I made sure my face wore a mask of grievance. Inside, however, I was thrilled. “Everyone’s here. Showtime.” Tears welled up in my eyes effortlessly, falling like pearls, evoking sympathy from anyone who looked my way. I met Bruce’s gaze with a wronged expression, sniffling before I spoke. “Dad, don’t blame Helen, but she took my money. Oops! Helen said not to tell you. Helen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let it slip. Please don’t make me leave.” I wailed as if I’d accidentally let something slip, apologizing fearfully to Helen. The act was flawless. I burst into soft sobs, apologizing repeatedly and pleading not to be thrown out. It was a great performance. Perhaps moved by my act, or maybe just fed up with Helen’s arrogance, Bruce turned to Helen and harshly rebuked, “You’re not my wife yet. If you don’t give me a son, get lost!” The words were like music to my ears. In a conciliatory gesture, he handed me his card. Observing Helen’s barely contained fury, I acted as if I was taking the card with great reluctance, which only prompted Bruce to scoff. “Petty,” he muttered. I accepted his scolding, though the corners of my mouth betrayed me, rising with a joy that was tough to contain. I assumed Helen would keep a low profile for some time after the incident; after all, one would think even the most brazen would want to preserve some semblance of dignity. However, as I should have anticipated, the vigor of a mistress, particularly one who had successfully become pregnant, was limitless. The very next day, she struck back. She mixed crushed peanuts into my breakfast, knowing full well I had a mild peanut allergy, right before my school placement exams. I laughed coldly to myself and “accidentally” spilled the oatmeal all over her pregnant belly. The autumn air did cool the oatmeal’s heat. But the sudden sensation on her skin made her jump in fright, and like many pregnant women, her pelvic floor muscles gave way, causing her to wet herself. Her face flushed crimson. Bruce, standing just a few feet away, looked at her with clear disgust before turning away and walking out of the room. Her fingers turned white as she clutched her skirt. A week later, she decided to hit back by paying my classmates to bully me. It was hilarious. What she didn’t know was that I wasn’t just another student. I was the class president, elected unanimously. I took the money and treated the entire class to a barbecue instead. We all ate to our heart’s content, laughing. Two weeks later, Helen, despite her pregnancy, tried something even more desperate. She staged a fall, blatantly attempting to frame me for causing her to slip. I just felt confused. Then, I pointed upwards to the three newly installed cameras on the ceiling that provided full coverage with no blind spots. I mentally asked, “Are you a fool?” Her pupils contracted in panic as she realized her little performance had been captured on camera. Without a word, she got up as if nothing had happened. After all that fuss, I was unscathed, but the fallout was even more bitter for her. My unfaithful father became even less inclined to come home. Now, Helen was confined at home, her pregnancy keeping her mostly indoors, while Bruce continued to make out with other women outside. I went to school each day with a spring; I even played the part of the dutiful child in front of Bruce, charming him into driving me to school himself. As a result, everyone at school knew that my dad was a powerful man with money, influence, and prestige, making it even less likely for anyone to dare mess with me.
From that point on, Helen seemed to give in, pouring all her attention into the pregnancy. In the meantime, I’d sneak away to spend time with Amanda, indulging her with shopping sprees on Bruce’s credit card. Of course, Bruce wasn’t exactly thrilled about the constant drain on his finances. So, to smooth things over, I’d make a pit stop at a flea market on my way home, pick up something cheap, have it prettily wrapped, and then exaggerate its price when I got back. Finally, I managed to keep the extra cash for myself, cleverly tucking away the difference. But I knew this little game couldn’t last forever. I was already thinking of other ways to bring in money. However, before I could even start, Helen was ready to give birth. After a frantic rush to the hospital, she delivered a healthy baby boy, sending him into raptures of joy, and his attitude toward her softened considerably. He had yearned for a son for ages, from before my time to the present, and now his dream was realized. Right after her postpartum recovery, Helen begged Bruce to make their relationship official by getting married. I clicked my tongue in disbelief, exclaiming, “Men like my dad weren’t built for loyalty. His infidelity knows no bounds, spreading evenly among all the beauties he meets.” Certainly, Helen’s beauty was unmistakable; she had the kind of allure that could make her a standout in the entertainment world, if not become an instant star. Yet, aspirations differed from person to person. Helen chose the security and affection of being a beloved wife over the pursuit of personal ambitions or the independence of soaring solo. She triumphed over all her rivals, cementing her position with the birth of her son. With the legal bond of marriage, she likely believed her status was now beyond challenge, yet she couldn’t abandon her former habits, resuming her attempts to dominate me. This time, she claimed I was a disturbance to her cherished little one. Taking advantage of the situation, I lamented to Bruce about feeling unwelcome at home. Since Helen had just scored a significant feat by giving Bruce a son, he was now completely at her service, attending to her every whim. Consequently, he arranged for me to live in a generous apartment near a prestigious university, providing me with a substantial allowance for my expenses. Truth be told, if this was what it meant to “suffer,” I wouldn’t mind enduring such “injustices” a few more times. With money in my pocket, everything became easier.
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