It wasn’t to protect me. They didn’t want to acknowledge my existence. They didn’t want the public to know about me.
They had already planned to cast me aside.
But why search for me in the first place?
Maybe they never truly wanted to find me. Maybe the missing daughter campaign was just a ploy to boost their reputation, to paint themselves as a family who valued love and kinship.
With Aunt Zamara's encouragement, I had spent ten years searching for my biological parents. When I finally found them, I thought they loved me, that they had been looking for me all along.
I was so naive. I threw myself into their cold, unfeeling home, only to be met with rejection and cruelty.
It took being battered and broken to realize that I was never meant to be a part of their world.
“Enough,” my father said coldly. “Let’s go. There’s no need to waste any more time here.”
The rich care deeply about appearances. I understood what he meant.
Before leaving, my mother scribbled out a check and casually tossed it on the ground.
The manager eagerly picked it up, thanking her profusely.