I am the child of a mistress. When I was seventeen, my biological father passed away. At the funeral, dressed in my school uniform, I faced a room full of financial titans, brilliant young scientists, and a reigning movie star. My voice trembled as I spoke: “I… I’ve come to claim my inheritance…” Before I could finish, the legitimate children all stared at me, their gazes like daggers. I burst into tears. “N-no… it’s okay if you don’t give it to me…” The movie star’s eyes lit up. “A sister? A soft, little sister?” The young scientist pulled out a notepad and pen. “Senior year? Come solve some calculus, let’s see where you’re at.” The titan pulled out a black card. “What’s there to care about that old man’s meager money? Call me ‘brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times that.” 1 My mother was a master manipulator, a gilded cage bird kept by a wealthy man. The arrangement was simple: he’d provide the money, she’d provide the charm. A clean transaction, no strings attached. But too many good days often breed greed. She got pregnant, and, emboldened by her growing belly, pulled a ‘gilded cage bird runs off with the heir’ stunt. Before she disappeared, she broadcast her address widely, practically begging to be found. She fantasized about her patron locking down the entire city, pursuing her with possessive passion. She imagined his wife, consumed by insecurity, collapsing and willingly stepping aside. Alas. She overplayed her hand. Her patron didn’t even bother to look for her. He didn’t want her, or the child she carried. This simply wouldn’t do! She, with her full-term belly, blocked his mansion’s entrance. Two bodyguards lifted her out, tossing her into a dumpster. They also delivered a message from his wife: “If you’re so capable, take him. But give me the child to raise once it’s born. Money? Not a single penny!” After her desperate pleas failed, she finally gave up. But the child couldn’t be aborted. Filled with resentment, she gave birth to me and raised me haphazardly. Not out of love, but solely for money. The phrase she repeated most often to me was: “You’re his blood. He thinks he can just refuse to give us anything?” “Dream on! Even if he dies, you’ll get your share of that estate!” As she wished, in my seventeenth year, my biological father died. Upon hearing the news, she swiftly deposited me at the funeral home. “Skye, listen up! Including you, your father only has four children! You get a quarter of his inheritance!” “Today is your last chance. If you don’t get that money, don’t bother coming back to see me!” Her contorted features terrified me. “Mom, don’t leave me here, I’m scared…” “Scared, scared, always just scared! What did I raise you for? To make money!” “For all these years, you’ve eaten my food, used my things, and kept me from finding someone else. Don’t I deserve compensation?” “Get the inheritance, give it to me, and then I’ll still be your mom!” She hurried a few steps away, then stopped abruptly. Turning back, she rummaged through my pockets, taking my only ten dollars. I froze. Without money, I couldn’t take the bus. From this funeral home in the middle of nowhere, it would take me until dark to walk back home. She shoved me. “Cut off your retreat, and you’ll work harder!” “If you get the money, take a cab home. If not…” She gestured vaguely at the surrounding hills. “This whole area is a graveyard. Just stay here and keep the ghosts company!” 2 The cold mountain wind whipped around me, sending shivers down my spine. Every small mound in the deep woods seemed to be staring at me with unseen eyes. I steeled myself and walked into the funeral home. The service had ended, and the guests had all left. The room was empty save for the benefactor’s three legitimate children and their lawyer, discussing the final arrangements. “According to Mr. Stone’s last will, his estate, totaling two hundred million dollars, will be divided equally among the three of you.” Two hundred million dollars! So much money! No wonder my mother was so obsessed. For over a decade, she’d been scrambling to get her hands on some of it. And what I had to do today was claim a quarter of those two hundred million. Fifty million! My palms were sweating from nerves. With that much money at stake, who would willingly let the child of a mistress take a share? I figured a beating was inevitable. I just hoped they’d go easy on me. I had an exam tomorrow, and my hands still needed to write… As I thought this, the division of assets had already begun. The eldest, Seraphina Stone, sat at the head of the table. She was a renowned movie star, having just swept the nation’s top film awards. Her sleek black dress couldn’t hide her breathtaking beauty. With delicate, slender fingers, she took the document, glanced at it, and then casually tossed it to her younger brother. “That’s it? This is what’s worth wasting my time?” Her brother, Benedict Stone, was dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, silver-rimmed glasses adding a touch of maturity to his refined, boyish face. He stared at his laptop, typing incessantly, not even looking at the paper worth two hundred million. “Money isn’t something I need.” I’d heard of him. He was the nation’s most brilliant young scientist, unparalleled in cutting-edge fields. He truly had no need for money; all his needs were covered by state funding. The paper drifted lightly into the hands of the youngest, Jason Stone. His articulated fingers grasped it, then he casually tore it to shreds. “Two hundred million is enough to warrant a will? Donate it.” Jason carried an air of nonchalant ruthlessness. For someone consistently on the rich list, two hundred million wasn’t worth his time. Seraphina and Benedict raised their eyebrows but offered no objection. The lawyer was about to draft a new donation agreement. I weakly raised my hand. “Um… excuse me…” As soon as the words left my lips, the three legitimate children and the lawyer – four pairs of eyes – all focused on me. My scalp tingled. The lawyer spoke, “May I help you?” I swallowed, then cautiously began, “I’m sorry, I… I’ve come to claim my inheritance…” 3 By the time I fully registered what was happening, I was surrounded. The three legitimate children were tall, handsome, and exuded an exceptional aura. Compared to them, I, in my school uniform, felt like a corner-dwelling sprout. I was on the verge of tears. Even if they didn’t care about money, it didn’t mean they’d willingly hand it over to a mistress’s child! I stammered, “N-no… it’s okay if you don’t give it to me…” Could I just borrow two dollars… …to take the bus? I secretly peeked up, but their intimidating presence made me shiver. Never mind, never mind. Just thirty miles of mountain road. I could walk it… I quietly started to inch away. After just a few steps, Seraphina’s hand clamped onto the collar of my uniform, and she lifted me back. “Tsk, too light. All bones.” Seraphina turned me over, examining me from head to toe, her beautiful face full of disdain. “First, gain twenty pounds. You need to be plump for good health.” “Your hair is dry and split; it needs treatment. Your face is sunburned; it needs repair.” “Your school uniform is worn, your shoes don’t fit, your backpack zipper is broken.” “Replace, replace, all of it needs replacing!” She pulled out her phone and called her stylist. “Five feet three inches tall, eighty-pound frame. Prepare a complete wardrobe from head to toe.” “Who is it for?” Seraphina’s tone became light and cheerful. “For my sister, of course!” 4 I shifted uncomfortably. “You… you know who I am?” Seraphina wrapped an arm around my waist, her usually elegant face beaming with excitement. “Of course, the old man’s illegitimate daughter, right?” She pointed to her brilliant scientist brother and her wealthy businessman brother, complaining to me: “Benedict was always a prodigy. Three years old, memorizing vocabulary. Five years old, writing advanced math. Take him out to play, and in less than five minutes, he’s pulling out a textbook to do problems. So boring!” “Jason is shrewd and cunning, full of schemes from head to toe. As soon as he could talk, he was setting traps for me. As soon as he could go out, he was figuring out how to charter car fleets. Absolutely no cuteness whatsoever!” “Being the eldest sister, I had the title but no real power.” “Now I’ve finally caught myself a normal human sister! Never mind anything else, let me just have a taste of being a big sister!” As Seraphina spoke, she opened her personal makeup bag, ready to cleanse and moisturize my face. Benedict elbowed her aside. He pulled out a paper and pen, his silver glasses glinting with excitement. “Sister, you’re a senior? How’s school?” “Here, start with a calculus problem, let’s see what you know!” Looking at the long English characters on the paper, I felt my mind go blank. “I… I don’t know…” I was a high school senior, not a college junior. Who studies calculus in high school? Benedict scratched his head, confused. “That can’t be right. Even the slowest person should have learned it by seventeen, shouldn’t they?” Jason scoffed, pushing Benedict aside and leaning in close to me. “You said you came to claim your inheritance?” The question brought us back to the main topic, and I looked at Jason nervously. Right, right. Finally, time to talk money and get hit, wasn’t it? Jason pulled out a black card, his sharp features softening. “That old man’s money? It’s nothing. Be a good girl, call me ‘brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times that.” Their enthusiasm made me feel a bit flustered. This was different from what my mother had told me. Before I came, she repeatedly instructed me: “The richer they are, the stingier they are! If they don’t give you anything, throw a tantrum on the floor!” “Getting hit is even better. The harder you’re hit, the more money you can demand!” She said the Stones and I were sworn enemies. But the way these “enemies” looked at me… it felt a little warm? 5 I couldn’t shake the feeling they were playing a simulation game with me. Like now. I was brought back to the Stone family estate. Seraphina had canceled her upcoming appearances, spending every day fussing over me. On my first day home, she had a carload of beef, lamb, fish, and seafood prepared. Dish after exquisite dish was brought to the table. I was overwhelmed. To avoid wasting anything, I ate furiously, feeling ready to burst. Seraphina was shocked. She stopped me. “You’ll make yourself sick this way.” “We made so many dishes just to see what you like. You don’t have to eat what you dislike.” I felt a little lost. Did she mean I could be picky? But my mother always said being picky was wrong. When I was three, she brought home leftover stir-fried pork. I took a bite, cried from the spice, and pushed it away with tears streaming down my face. She got angry, pulled me up, and hit me. “So young and already picky? Want good food? You don’t have the right!” But it was truly too spicy; my mouth hurt with every bite. I cried and only ate rice, avoiding the dish entirely. But even that didn’t satisfy her. She said I was being dramatic, that this bad habit had to be broken. That same stir-fried pork, if I didn’t eat it for one meal, she’d save it for two. If I didn’t eat it for two days, she’d save it for three. I wouldn’t get new food until I finished it. I starved for three whole days, and in the end, I cried as I ate the spoiled stir-fried pork. That night, I came down with a high fever. After the fever broke, she stood beside me, lecturing. “Being picky is wrong. Mom is teaching you this for your own good. Did you remember?” I remembered. So, facing a table full of food, I ate with all my might. Hoping to finish before the food went bad. Preferences? Favorites? None. I had no right to choose. Seraphina couldn’t bear to watch anymore. She took my chopsticks and, in a softer voice, said, “Don’t be afraid, Skye. You’re still a child. You can just eat what you like.” A sudden wave of sorrow washed over me. It was like the three-year-old me, forced to eat chili, being held and gently comforted: “The chili hurt your mouth? It’s okay, we won’t eat that. Let’s eat something else!” I gathered my courage and whispered, “I… I don’t want to eat chili…” Seraphina waved her hand, and several housekeepers came forward, swiftly clearing all dishes with chili. Not only that. From that day on, I never saw chili on the dinner table again. So this is what it felt like to be favored. One simple “I don’t like it,” and that thing could disappear from my world. Under her careful nurturing, I rapidly grew plump and pale, like a balloon inflating. My hair visibly became dark and lustrous. She was very pleased, often showing off her results to her two younger brothers. 6 Benedict, not to be outdone, was astonished by how terrible my academic performance was after a comprehensive assessment. High school already! Couldn’t do Fourier transforms in math, didn’t understand quantum physics, didn’t know supramolecular chemistry. Tsk! How could someone be so dim-witted! He stopped going to his lab and took me to school to arrange an extended leave, planning to personally design a tutoring program for me. His car parked at the school gates, attracting a crowd of stares. Even the most understated Stone car was still the most eye-catching vehicle on the street. He opened the car door, carefully shielding the frame for me. Just as I got out, I ran into some of my classmates. “Well, well, isn’t it Skye, the mistress’s daughter? Haven’t seen you in a few days. Landed a sugar daddy?” “What’s so strange about that? The mistress’s daughter becoming a mistress herself, it’s only natural!” A group of them burst into laughter. My face burned. I opened my mouth to defend myself. “No, he’s my brother!” Selene Miller retorted rudely, “Oh, please! Everyone knows your mistress mom only had you! Seriously shameless, just claiming relatives everywhere!” “Big brother, you should stay far away from Skye, or her mom will cling to you and you’ll have hell to pay!” My classmates all nodded. Actually, they weren’t like this at first. Even though they knew I was illegitimate, they didn’t discriminate against me. When Selene saw my tattered clothes, she even begged her mother to let me wear some of hers. We became good friends. But it didn’t last. One weekend, I came home happily wearing a red dress Selene had given me. My mother grabbed the dress like a madwoman, demanding, “Who bought you this?” I stammered an explanation, saying a classmate gave it to me. She cursed furiously, “Are you so poor you’ll take any old junk?!” “Don’t you have any taste? You’re a Stone heiress! Not some beggar on the street!” She took a pair of scissors and cut the red dress into pieces. My heart ached. I was worse off than a beggar on the street! At least beggars didn’t have a mother as crazy as mine! She dragged me to school and caused a huge scene, insisting Selene had bullied me and insulted me with old clothes. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen. She threw a tantrum in front of the school principal, demanding that Selene’s parents pay for my emotional damages. Helpless, the principal made Selene apologize to me in person. The way Selene looked at me changed. From that day on, all my classmates knew not only that I was illegitimate, but also that I had a mercenary mistress mom. They nicknamed me “the mistress’s daughter,” and no one wanted to talk to me anymore. Benedict patted my shoulder, stepping in front of me. “Selene Miller? I’ve heard of you. You once helped my little sister, Skye. Thank you!” Selene was stunned, blushing and stammering, “I-I-I said those things about Skye, how-how can you still thank me?” Benedict smiled, making him even more approachable. Just then, the homeroom teacher arrived, having heard the commotion. He eagerly invited Benedict into the classroom, proudly introducing him: “Benedict Stone, Silverwood’s top student in the middle school entrance exam, national champion in physics and chemistry competitions, a prodigy from Capital University’s gifted program!”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “582320”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply