My stepbrother despised me. But I always clung to him. He’d pay me two thousand dollars to not walk home with him after school, and twenty thousand to transfer out of his class. But every single time, I’d find a way back to him. After senior year finals, he wired a huge sum of money to my account, his voice icy. “That’s five million. Go study abroad. Just don’t ever show up at my house again.” My eyes burned. I dropped my gaze and whispered, “Okay.” Yes! He finally fell for it. I almost walked in on Mason kissing a poor student. In the dimly lit private room. He leaned back on the corner couch, looking worn out, his eyes closed. His sculpted features were obscured by shadows. A girl in a white dress stood beside him, hands braced on either side of his head, leaning in tentatively, inching closer. I suddenly pushed the door open. She jumped back, startled, and spun around to face me. Her eyes were wide and wet, like a startled deer. “Chloe, I…” I walked past her, straight to Mason. “The driver’s here to pick me up. My dad said I should bring you home too.” He grabbed his jacket from beside him, throwing it on as he followed me out. It was late, and the corridor was mostly empty. He closed the door behind him but didn’t leave. He just leaned against it, casually. “She almost kissed me.” “…” I kept quiet. A hint of irritation flared in his voice. “She’s really shy. It took her a lot of courage to even do that.” I unlocked my phone, showing him the time and my stepfather’s message. I explained softly. “My dad really did tell me to pick you up on my way.” He glanced at it, giving a dismissive grunt. “Oh.” “I’m an adult now. I’ve finished finals. He can’t control me anymore. Your tattling won’t work.” The flickering club lights shifted, illuminating his face. His cheeks were flushed. He was drunk. I clutched my sleeve, my voice barely audible. “But…” He cut me off abruptly. “Go home by yourself.” “And—” His fingers tapped a few times on his phone. “Here’s five million. Go study abroad. Don’t ever appear at my house again.” “Let’s just never see each other again.” “Chloe, I really hate you.” He never wanted to see me again. My eyes instantly burned. I dropped my gaze, biting back a choked sob. “Okay.” Mason turned and walked back into the private room, slamming the door shut with a bang. I checked the numbers on my mobile banking app. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I crouched down, clamped a hand over my mouth, and let out silent, joyful giggles. Yes! He finally fell for it.
Mason had hated me for a long time. He thought my mom and I were only after the family’s money. Well, he was a smart one. When he was fourteen, he put two fake spiders in my bed, trying to scare me into leaving his house. I cried my eyes out. My stepfather, to console me, gave me more allowance. Seeing the money, I cheered right up. When I was sixteen, Mason and I were assigned to the same high school. He didn’t want to be in the same class as me, and he definitely didn’t want my dad to yell at him and then comfort me. So he skipped all the usual steps. “Twenty thousand.” “Switch out of this class.” Freshman year, I left. Sophomore year, I was back. He never specified a time limit. When I walked back into the classroom with my backpack, Mason’s face was dark. The guy in front of him grinned. “Mason, your sister’s really persistent.” Mason’s voice was cold. “She’s not my sister.” Everyone around us exchanged knowing glances and chuckled. Mason looked at me, his brows furrowed. “What exactly will it take for you to just disappear from my sight?” My eyes reddened. “Do you really hate me that much?” He held up a number with his fingers. I bit my lip. “My bad, I must have walked into the wrong class today.”
That’s when I saw the business opportunity. Mason was seriously rich. His mom, living abroad, had already paved every path for him. He’d play golf, and I’d be there as part of the “atmosphere crew,” fetching his water and jacket. He’d confront me about it. I’d look up at him, my eyes wide and starry. “I just admire you, big brother. Is that not allowed?” He’d transfer money to me. “Go shop if you’ve got nothing to do. Just stop bothering me.” So, I’d happily accept. I clung to Mason for over a year. Everyone knew he had a stepsister, and they even joked about us, saying next time they’d come visit him in therapy. Eventually, Mason just stopped bothering to explain. He just kept telling me to take the money and leave. But I wasn’t about to leave my personal ATM. For Mason’s eighteenth birthday, he drank a lot. When he came home from the hotel, I was there, one hand holding a hangover soup, the other helping to steady him. I hoped he’d be so drunk he’d accidentally add an extra zero to a transfer. He squinted, looking down at me, and then suddenly said, “Chloe, you’re really cunning and manipulative.” There was a hint of mockery in his tone. My foot, mid-step on the stairs, froze. Being insulted required additional compensation. He suddenly gripped my waist, his hand shutting off the lights in one smooth motion. I was pressed against the spiral staircase railing, his lips on mine. My vision went dark in an instant. Only his face, magnified, filled my view. His breath was a storm. I gasped, pushing him away abruptly. The bowl in my hand clattered to the floor, rolling down the stairs. My stepfather called from upstairs, “Chloe, what happened?” I suppressed my trembling voice, crying out in a wounded tone, just like always, “Mason’s drunk! He’s throwing a fit and even broke my bowl!” Mason stood silently, leaning against the railing in the dimness, his gaze downcast. My stepfather sighed. “He’s just like that, gets crazy when he drinks. Don’t mind him, go back and rest. I’ll help him.” I fled back to my room. Three in the morning. Mason messaged me. [I’m sorry.] [I couldn’t see clearly. I thought you were someone else.] It was the first time he’d ever apologized to me. But it felt like an insult. He attached a transfer. I didn’t accept it, and I didn’t reply.
I later found out who that person was. One of Mason’s many admirers. Grace, the poor student who was always in the top ten of our class. She was shy and timid, only daring to look up at him from afar. And Mason, of all people, had noticed her. He said, “She’s just like Chloe, always looking pitiful.” “Who’s she trying to fool?” He hated me, but he seemed to enjoy Grace’s helpless act. After school, I was waiting in the car for him to come out. But then I saw a girl in a school uniform following him. The car door opened. He didn’t get in. He was holding her backpack and raised an eyebrow at me, casually. “Get out.” I froze for a second. Grace carefully reached out, grabbing his arm and shaking it gently, her voice soft. “It’s okay, Mason.” “I can go home by myself.” Mason didn’t budge, his voice growing colder. “I’m taking her home.” “I’ve transferred the money to you. Get a taxi.” Why didn’t he give me enough to just buy my own car? Never mind. Best to quit while I was ahead. I nodded, feeling humiliated, biting my lip and gripping my backpack straps, obediently getting out of the car. It was dusk, and the crowds were thinning out. I stood alone by the roadside, staring at my shoe tips, tears silently falling. Only after his car drove off in the opposite direction did I wipe away my tears and open Mason’s message. 20,000? Good thing I didn’t check the message in front of him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to cry so convincingly. Mason’s five million came too late. I hadn’t prepared for the IELTS in advance, so I had to cancel most of my travel plans and parties, holing up in my room to memorize vocabulary. Mason was throwing a party downstairs with his friends.
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