Serena stuck out her tongue, stood, and clinked glasses with her parents.
"To the complete success of Lily's 'raise her poor' plan!"
The three of them raised their crimson wine and drank deeply, the atmosphere light and celebratory.
And I finally understood the full truth.
The illness was fake. The poverty was fake.
But in these eighteen years, my fear, my unease, my inferiority, my cowardice—and that suffocating guilt more unbearable than death itself—those were real.
They had conspired in a vile game. And the price was my life.
The last bit of money I'd traded my half-dead body for was sliding down their throats, mouthful by mouthful.
The pain nearly devoured my soul.
I wanted to scream at them—why did you do this to me?
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make a single sound.
At that moment, a servant rushed to the table clutching a paper bag.
His face was deathly pale. "Sir, I found a strange letter in the money bag the second young lady sent."
Dad took the letter casually. The moment he saw what was inside, his face went white…
