"When I said I needed more spending money, three million dollars showed up in my account within half an hour."
Every word was a needle, piercing straight into my heart.
In that tiny, crumbling orphanage, all I could do was scratch pictures of a family of three into the dirt with pebbles.
All I could do was listen to piano music drifting over the wall from the church next door.
But I worked hard. I earned my own invitation to a prestigious school.
Ten years of working odd jobs while studying. My school uniform was the cleanest, nicest thing I owned.
The socks and sweaters Grandma Director knitted for me were my only source of warmth.
"I've been so blessed," Cynthia sighed contentedly. Then she turned to me, a smile playing on her lips. "What about you? Your parents must love you very much too, right?"
I saw the challenge glinting in her eyes.
I pressed my lips together and gripped the hem of my jacket.
"Cecilia Henson!"
After a few seconds of silence, Dad's voice cut through the snow. He was still wearing that old coat with holes in it, his hair a disheveled mess.
He walked straight toward me as if Cynthia didn't exist, draping his coat over my shoulders.