The day of my dad’s birthday, I found the car charm I’d spent a week meticulously crafting tossed in the trash. I put away the car keys I was planning to give him and went to confront him, only to be met with a harsh slap across my face. “I raised you this big, and this is all you give me? You complain constantly that we favor your brother and give him all the money, but have you seen the pure gold bracelet Kevin gave me? You still have the nerve to freeload in our house!” “Get out! If you cause any more trouble, I swear I’ll disinherit you!” It was pouring rain, and I was kicked out of the house in my pajamas. I turned around and saw my dad post on SnapChat: “Raising a daughter is worse than raising a dog.” When I saw the gold bracelet on his wrist, I froze. Wasn’t that the same gold-plated bracelet I’d bought him when I got my new car? On my dad’s sixtieth birthday, I had an expensive gift ready for him early that day. I drove my newly purchased car downstairs, then went up with the car keys in hand. The moment I stepped through the door, I found they’d already finished eating. I paused, a flicker of annoyance crossing my face. “Mom, didn’t we agree you’d wait for me to celebrate since I’d be home late?” Before my mom could answer, my brother, Kevin, sneered from the side. “Who do you think you are? You come back empty-handed and still expect a meal?” We’d never gotten along, so I shot back immediately, “No matter what, I don’t constantly drain Mom and Dad’s pockets. Besides, who says I didn’t bring Dad a gift?” I started to pull out the car keys as I spoke. My dad’s car was a decade-old used Honda. It had no AC in winter and no ventilation in summer, but he’d never brought himself to replace it. I’d recently made a decent chunk of money from my business, so I meticulously picked out a brand-new SUV worth a good fifteen thousand dollars as his birthday gift. Before I could finish, Kevin scoffed. “You ungrateful brat. I bought Dad a gold bracelet this year. And you think *that* pathetic thing is a gift? I’ve never seen anyone so shameless.” “Dad thought it was trashy to hang in his car! He tossed it ages ago.” The specific color I wanted for the car wasn’t available at the local dealership; it needed a few more days to arrive. Afraid I’d miss the birthday, I had specially made a car charm in advance and gave it to Dad. My craftsmanship wasn’t perfect, and that charm took me a solid week to make, leaving several holes pricked in my fingers. Kevin’s words made me laugh, but it was a bitter, angry laugh. “Mom, Dad, did you hear what Kevin just said?” My gaze fell on Mom’s evasive eyes, and my expression hardened. “Dad, did you really throw away my gift?” A flicker of guilt crossed Dad’s face, then vanished as he bellowed at me. “Who taught you to talk to your father like that? Are you *questioning* me?” I ignored him, just staring him down. “Dad, I’m just asking you one thing: where’s the gift I gave you?”
Dad’s silence chilled me to the bone. I slammed the door, ready to leave, but Mom stopped me. She pulled me into the bedroom, trying to soothe me. “Lily, I accidentally threw that car charm away, thinking it was trash. Don’t blame your dad.” “Today’s your dad’s sixtieth birthday. Just for my sake, don’t make a fuss over something so small and spoil the day for him.” My heart ached with resentment, but looking at Mom’s tired, worn face, I softened. I reluctantly agreed not to make a scene about the car charm, but all my enthusiasm for giving him the car vanished. I felt listless, unwilling to speak. Mom went out to talk to Dad and Kevin, leaving me alone in the bedroom to calm down. My mind was racing, and I paced restlessly in the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a red corner peeking out from under the pillow. I pulled it out and found it was a property deed. But as far as I knew, we didn’t own any property. Ever since Dad’s business failed, our old house had been sold, and we’d been renting ever since. My heart hammered in my chest. I slowly opened it. Kevin’s name, in big bold letters under the owner’s column, deeply stung my eyes. Kevin had been unemployed since dropping out of community college, struggling to even support himself. Where would he get the money to buy a house? There was only one possibility: Mom and Dad bought it for him. The realization hit me, and a wave of fury surged from my feet to my head. Months ago, I was misdiagnosed with gastric cancer. I called Dad, crying. He was silent for a long time before finally saying, “You know our family’s situation. Your mom and I spent half our lives working to pay off debts. Your illness is a bottomless pit…” The transfer date on the property deed was the *exact same day* I received that terrible misdiagnosis. So, the family wasn’t broke. Buying a house for Kevin was just more important than my life. Thinking this, my heart turned to ice. I clutched the property deed and stormed out of the bedroom.
“Slam!” I threw the property deed heavily in front of Dad. “You bought Kevin a house? The down payment alone must have been over ten thousand dollars. Where did you get the money?” Mom quickly scurried over to calm me. “Lily, what are you talking about? We’re still in debt; where would we get money to buy a house?” I scoffed. “Then what’s this property deed all about?” A flicker of panic crossed Mom’s eyes, but she forced a laugh. “This… this is fake. Your brother’s got a girlfriend, and her family is well-off. He was afraid of being looked down upon, so he made a fake document to keep up appearances.” Did she take me for a fool? I stated plainly, “Fake? Then let’s call the city records office. Faking official documents is a crime.” Mom shut her mouth. Kevin jumped in again. “Lily, don’t be crazy. So what if I have money to buy a house? It’s none of your business!” I didn’t even want to dignify him with a response. I pulled out my phone, ready to call the police. “Since you can’t explain where the money for the house came from, let’s call the police and investigate.” “Smack!” Dad’s slap made my ears ring, yet my mind felt strangely clear. Dad pointed at me, yelling. “What’s all this fuss about? I paid for this house for your brother!” “Your brother is filial; he gave me a solid gold bracelet for my birthday. And you? A worthless, crappy car charm.” “Raising a daughter is worse than raising a dog. We should’ve drowned you the day you were born…” “Get out! Get out, I don’t have a daughter like you!”
In the pouring rain, I was beaten and cursed as I was driven out of the house. My head spun with fury; I don’t even remember how I got downstairs. Just as I sat in the car, trying to compose myself, a SnapChat message from Mom came through. “Lily, don’t argue with your dad. He had a bit to drink today for his birthday, his mind isn’t clear. He didn’t mean to hit you. Don’t worry, Mom has already scolded him, so don’t hold a grudge.” “Be careful on your way home. Mom cured your favorite salted fish for you. Remember to come back and get it in a few days.” “Only you get some. Your dad and brother? We won’t give them any.” In the past, hearing Mom say something like that would have made at least half my anger disappear. Dad always favored Kevin, and while Mom didn’t have much say in the family, she usually sided with me a little more. Like the salted fish – only I loved it in our house. Dad had told her many times not to make it; it was time-consuming and messy, filling the house with a smell. I’d also tried to persuade her, telling her her back wasn’t good, and curing fish took half a day sitting down. Plus, it was cheap and delicious to buy outside now. Mom wouldn’t listen. “If my daughter likes it, Mom will make it. What they sell outside has additives; Mom’s is all-natural, good for your health. You work so hard, with Mom’s salted fish, you can eat two more bowls of rice.” She’d rub her back, carefully packing the salted fish into my bag as if it were treasure. Every time I saw her like that, I’d instinctively soften. But now, that property deed kept flashing before my eyes. Did Mom really think that property deed was fake? I didn’t reply. Just as I was about to drive away, an algorithm pushed a post onto my feed.
I don’t know why, but I clicked on the post. The title was “Raising a daughter is worse than raising a dog!” I recognized it as Dad’s post because he’d attached a screenshot from a security camera. It was a still of me, just moments ago, holding the property deed and confronting him. Though it was only my back, anyone familiar with me would recognize the out-of-control, raging woman as me. In Dad’s description, I became an unforgivable, unfilial daughter, while Kevin was portrayed as a thoughtful, model son. Someone commented below, suggesting he might be showing favoritism towards his son. Dad quickly defended himself: “What do you mean favoritism towards my son? Our family values family bonds above all! Kevin has never caused his mom and me any trouble since he was little, and he even gave me a pure gold bracelet for my birthday.” He even gave an example. A few months ago, he saw me at a restaurant celebrating a stranger’s birthday and giving them two bottles of expensive wine. Then, for his own birthday, I only gave him a worthless car charm. “This kind of daughter is raised to be someone else’s property! We should have drowned her at birth!” I scrolled through in silence, feeling utterly powerless. That man was my client; my entire year’s business hinged on him. My client had no other hobbies, just a fondness for good wine. I’d specifically pulled strings to get him two bottles of rare, vintage wine. Later, Mom secretly told me Dad was upset. I tried to explain that it was for a client. But Dad wouldn’t let it go, constantly mocking me whenever we met. To avoid making Mom uncomfortable caught in the middle, I again pulled strings to buy him two bottles of equally expensive wine. I never imagined he’d cherry-pick the worst parts, leaving out all context, turning it into undeniable proof of my disrespect. With pictures and “facts,” the online sentiment quickly turned against me.
“This woman is terrifying! She must have rage issues!” “A daughter like this is worse than no daughter at all!” “This type of woman is just asking for trouble; are outsiders more important than her own father?” “This is why people in our country don’t want to have daughters. Girls always abandon their families for outsiders!” Kevin was also jumping in the comments, stirring the pot. “My sister is in the import-export business; she even has a small company. For Dad’s sixtieth birthday, such an important day, she only gave him a car charm. Who knows if she’s really broke or just stingy with Dad. We can’t say anything, because if we do, she’ll just accuse Mom and Dad of favoring their son.” Dad replied below: “Even if she gave me a gold bracelet, I wouldn’t want it. Who knows if her money came from some shady dealings?” “Not like my good son. He earns his money honestly, and Dad is happy to receive it.” The two of them portrayed a perfect picture of fatherly love and filial piety. My blood boiled. When I started college, Mom and Dad cut off my allowance and tuition, claiming money was tight. I worked tirelessly, juggling multiple part-time jobs, just to scrape through university. After graduation, I started my own business. The moment I had some savings, Mom would cry poor, and soft-hearted, I gave her a card, transferring money into it every month. In fact, many of the items in their home were purchased by me out of my own pocket. In contrast, Kevin spent a fortune on community college only to drop out. Now, he sat at home all day, doing nothing, relying on others for support, and gave Dad a cheap, gold-plated bracelet whose authenticity was questionable. Yet *he* was the model son? The community was small, and Dad’s post didn’t hide his IP address. Soon, “righteous” netizens were threatening to dox me. “Expose her! This unfilial daughter’s true colors should be seen by her business partners. Let’s see who dares to work with someone like her again!” My vision blurred. I’d worked my ass off for years; I absolutely couldn’t let this fabricated post ruin my career. Clutching my phone, I rushed upstairs, determined to make Dad take down the post. The front door of the house was ajar, and snippets of three voices drifted through the slightly open gap.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “299216”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn
Leave a Reply