Chapter 1

While scrolling through my phone on a long bus ride, I stumbled across a post that caught my eye.

The poster wrote about how hard her life was growing up.

Now, seeing her newborn daughter surrounded by the love of her parents and the doting affection of her grandparents, she felt a twinge of jealousy.

She asked the internet for advice on how to adjust her mindset.

Many people offered kind suggestions, saying it was likely postpartum depression and recommending she talk to her husband or take a vacation after her recovery.

Amidst the well-meaning advice, one highly upvoted comment stood out like a sore thumb:

[Just make your daughter live the exact same life you did.]

[Otherwise, it’s not fair. You suffered so much, and she gets a better life without lifting a finger.]

People in the replies were tearing her apart for the toxic advice.

But the commenter doubled down:

[That’s exactly what I did. I never got to wear new clothes when I was a kid, so I forbid my daughter from wearing new clothes.]

[I never had enough to eat, so I trick my daughter into thinking we’re poor. I make her eat less to 'save food.']

[After I started doing that, I instantly felt balanced.]

The comments section was completely horrified.

But I felt a sudden, bone-chilling cold spread through my body.

Because the profile picture of the person leaving those comments was identical to my mother’s.

1

It was too much of a coincidence.

My mother had also used the excuse that we were "poor" to force me into wearing my older cousins' hand-me-downs.

Because the clothes never fit right, I was constantly mocked by kids my own age.

Once, a relative gifted me a brand-new dress. My mother smiled and accepted it.

But the second the relative left, she took a pair of scissors and shredded the dress to pieces.

She sat me down and told me earnestly that there were bad men outside, and wearing dresses was too dangerous.

I believed her.

As a result, I didn't own a single piece of new clothing until I got to college and bought one myself with money from my part-time job.

Staring at the screen, my heart sank into my stomach.

Could this commenter actually be my mother?

Are there really mothers out there who are so jealous of their own daughters that they intentionally abuse them?

With trembling hands, I kept reading.

The replies were merciless:

[I’ve never seen a mother this evil. If you didn’t want a daughter, you shouldn’t have had one. Why give birth just to abuse her?]

[Black-hearted parents like you should be locked up so you stop wasting society’s resources.]

The commenter fired back with cold sarcasm:

[You’re all defending my daughter, but do you even know what kind of person she is?]

[She’s been bad since she was little. She stole a hair clip from a classmate and lied to my face, saying she saved up her own money to buy it.]

[Hilarious. I never gave her an allowance. How could she possibly save money?]

[After I exposed her lie, she didn’t even feel ashamed. She went crying to her teacher, playing the victim, claiming she collected recycling to buy it. I was so furious I dragged her to the front of the classroom and made her write a public apology to the whole class.]

[Why does a daughter with such terrible moral character deserve me treating her well?]

The replies were utterly appalled:

[That’s your own flesh and blood! You didn’t believe her, and you completely trampled on her dignity. Having a mother like you is a curse.]

[If I were your daughter, I would never forgive you for the rest of my life.]

The commenter brushed it off:

[Any woman can see right through her little manipulative tricks.]

[She’s a pathological liar, vain, and obsessed with comparing herself to others.]

[I grew up without wearing hair clips, and I turned out fine, didn’t I?]

[If I didn’t nip those thoughts in the bud and force her to change, she would have humiliated our family sooner or later.]

2

My blood ran cold.

When I was little, I did buy a hair clip.

All the girls in my class had one, and I was so envious. During recess, I scavenged the school grounds for discarded plastic bottles to sell at the recycling center.

I finally saved up enough to buy one, but my mother saw it.

My normally mild-mannered mother suddenly went ballistic. She violently ripped it out of my hair, screaming:

"You shameless little bitch! Who did you steal this from?!"

I was terrified, but once I recovered from the shock, I desperately tried to explain.

She didn't believe a word. She dragged me to school and interrogated every single girl in my class, asking if they had lost a hair clip.

Crying, I told my teacher the truth.

Instead of listening, my mother slapped me hard across the face.

"You dare lie to your teacher?! Is this how I raised you?! You're making me lose face!"

Because of that, even though there was no "victim" claiming the clip was stolen, I was forced to stand in front of the entire class and read an apology letter.

Afterward, my mother told me she did it for my own good.

She said she didn't want me to develop a habit of vanity and comparing myself to others.

She said our family was poor, so we had to live simply and humbly.

We shouldn't buy things we couldn't afford, and we definitely shouldn't steal.

Looking at her rough, calloused hands from years of hard labor, I was convinced, and I felt incredibly guilty.

After all, we barely had enough food on the table, yet I was craving material luxuries.

From that day on, I never bought anything like that again.

During the years when other girls were blooming and wearing pretty things, I lived my life like a dusty, invisible ugly duckling.

But I always comforted myself by saying every family is different, and my parents were doing their best.

Now, I was looking at the horrifying truth.

Refusing to give up, I kept reading.

Because the commenter's logic was so unhinged, someone asked her:

[Aren't you afraid your daughter is going to cut you off when she grows up?]

The commenter replied smugly:

[I’m not stupid. If you give a slap, you have to offer a piece of candy. I have her completely wrapped around my finger. She even promised to take care of me and be a good daughter when she grows up.]

I let out a bitter laugh.

Every time my mother hit or scolded me, she would always follow it up with a small trinket or a few comforting words.

And every time, I would tear up, completely convinced that I was the one who made a mistake and wasn't being a "good girl."

I never could have imagined that everything I suffered over the years was intentionally orchestrated by my own mother.

She just wanted me to live the miserable life she had, so she could finally feel "balanced" inside.

Looking down at the gift bag I was holding—a present I had bought for her—I felt profoundly sick.

3

The scenery outside the window stopped moving. The train had arrived at the station.

Today was the day I was heading home for winter break.

Originally, I had a million things I wanted to tell my mother.

I wanted to tell her about my life in the city, to share all the new and exciting things I had experienced.

But now, I hesitated.

After standing in the station lobby for a few minutes, I decided I was going to confront her and demand the truth.

Just as I was about to leave the station, I instinctively glanced at the forum post one last time.

What I saw made the blood freeze in my veins.

The commenter wrote:

[Honestly, after she graduated high school, I wanted to send the wretched girl to work in a factory. But somehow she got into a university, and a pretty good one at that. Now, whenever the villagers talk about her, they always praise her for making something of herself.]

[Every time I see her smug face, it pisses me off.]

[If I had her opportunities back in the day, I would have scored way higher than her.]

[She’s only a junior in college, and she’s already grown wings. She hasn’t come home in two years! If I actually let her graduate, she’ll fly away the second she gets her diploma.]

[Hmph. When she comes back this time, I’m making sure she never leaves. She’s not shaking us off that easily.]

I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. I couldn't believe what I was reading.

The reason I hadn't gone home the last two years was because I was working multiple part-time jobs to save up for tuition and living expenses.

When I told my mother, she constantly praised me for being mature and independent.

What was she planning now?

Someone in the comments asked her what she was going to do.

My mother didn't hold back:

[I found a guy for her. When she gets back this time, I’m marrying her off.]

[If she stays in the village, at least we can look out for each other.]

The comments section exploded, calling her a monster and completely devoid of humanity.

My mother fired back, completely self-righteous:

[Arranged marriages are tradition! I had to marry into this village, why shouldn’t she?]

[You can’t truly empathize with someone unless you walk in their shoes. If she doesn’t walk my path, how will she ever understand my suffering?]

[Besides, enduring extreme hardship is the only way to build character. Everything I’m doing is for her own good.]

Seeing they couldn't reason with her, several commenters threatened to call the police and have her arrested.

Only then did my mother get scared. She quickly deleted her account.

Reading that, my eyes instantly welled up with tears.

A chaotic storm of emotions crashed into me, finally solidifying into a single, crystal-clear thought.

I have to get out of here. I have to escape this cannibalistic family.

I wiped my tears and turned around, intending to buy a ticket straight back to campus.

But before I could take two steps, I felt like I had been plunged into an icy abyss.

My parents were standing right at the exit gate, waiting for me. And next to them was a strange man.

This was a small, rural train station. There was only one exit.

Their eyes lit up when they saw me. "Chloe! Over here!"

I froze in place, a million thoughts racing through my head.

The station was tiny, with no transfer tunnels. I had no choice but to walk through the exit gates.

But I absolutely could not follow them back to the village.

If I caused a scene right now, it wouldn't end well for me.

Even if I managed to call the police, since I hadn't suffered any physical harm yet, the cops would just treat it as a domestic dispute and tell us to sort it out ourselves.

I couldn't alert them to my panic. I had to wait for an opportunity to shake them off.

Forcing a bright, surprised smile, I walked toward them. "Mom, Dad! What are you guys doing here?"

My mother smiled warmly. "You haven't been home in two years! Of course we came to pick you up personally."

"Look, even your dad came."

If this had happened in the past, hearing those words would have made me overjoyed.

Because my father had always been incredibly cold to me.

He saved all his warmth and affection for my male cousin.

He would take my cousin out to play and buy him gifts, treating him like he was his actual son.

My mother also constantly sighed, lamenting that she wished I had been born a boy.

Because of that, growing up, I had always felt a deep, crushing inferiority complex around my cousin.

I pressed my lips together, shifting my gaze to the strange man standing next to them. I changed the subject. "Mom, who is this?"

My mother enthusiastically introduced him. "This is Bobby! Did you forget him? He used to carry you around when you were a baby. He happens to have a car, so he gave us a ride to come get you."

Bobby shot me a sleazy, evaluating look, then gave my mother what he thought was a subtle, knowing nod.

I frowned, instinctively taking a half-step back.

I didn't recognize Bobby, but I knew exactly who he was from village gossip.

He was well into his thirties, completely unemployed, and spent his days drinking and gambling.

The only thing he had to his name was a sum of money his father had saved up to buy him a wife.

But even with the money, every family in the village avoided him like the plague.

And my mother wanted to sell me to him.

My eyes began to sting again.

4

It was almost noon. Since our village was still a long drive away, we stopped at a small restaurant near the station for lunch.

At the table, I had barely picked up a piece of braised pork when my mother let out a dramatic sigh.

"When I was your age, I never got to eat good food like this. Just smelling oil was a luxury. Your generation is so spoiled."

In the past, during holidays or when guests came over, my mother would cook a few meat dishes.

But the moment she saw me eat more than one piece, she would bring up how hard her childhood was.

Every single time, I would look at her with heartbreaking guilt, immediately put my chopsticks down, and leave all the meat for her and the guests.

But this time, I pretended I didn't understand. I smiled at her and started aggressively eating the meat, taking massive bites.

If I didn't eat now, I wouldn't have the energy to run later.

My mother was completely dumbfounded.

But since an outsider was present, she couldn't scold me. She had no choice but to join in and start eating.

When I was halfway through my bowl, I casually touched my pocket. My wallet, ID, and debit card were all there.

Thank god I had the habit of keeping my important documents on my person.

I wiped my mouth, looked up at my mother, and said, "I'm going to the restroom."

My mother's eyes swept over my large suitcase sitting by the table, and then over my half-eaten bowl of food. She nodded.

She knew how incredibly frugal I was; I would never abandon my luggage or waste a meal.

I stood up and walked away.

As the front door got closer and closer, my heart started beating faster and faster.

Just as I was about to step out the door, a waitress called out loudly:

"Miss, you're going the wrong way! The restroom is over there!"

Crap.

Sure enough, the very next second, I heard my mother's rapid footsteps and her sharp, demanding voice: "Chloe, where do you think you're going?!"

I broke into a dead sprint.

If I didn't run now, and they dragged me back to that remote village, no one would ever hear me scream.

My parents tried to chase me out the door, but the waitress physically blocked them because they hadn't paid the bill.

Seeing this, Bobby bolted out the door after me.

The streets were packed with people. It was the middle of the lunch rush.

I started screaming at the top of my lungs, "Help! Human trafficker! Help!"

Several bystanders immediately stepped in and blocked Bobby's path.

Bobby was completely shameless. "I'm not a trafficker! She's my wife! I caught her cheating, and now she's trying to run away! Don't let her trick you!"

I clenched my fists. I couldn't believe how disgusting he was.

But the bystanders weren't idiots. "Do you think we're blind? Look at your age! If you got married early, you could be this girl's father. We don't believe a word of it."

"Someone call the police! Don't let this creep get away!"

Bobby looked stunned. What they were trying to do to me was basically human trafficking anyway.

And since my parents were stuck inside paying the bill, he had no backup to corroborate his lie.

His face turned pale. Before anyone could actually dial 911, he turned around and fled.

I let out a massive breath of relief and immediately picked up my pace, completely disappearing into the crowd.

I blocked my parents' phone numbers.

Terrified they might be waiting for me at the train station, I hailed a cab and rode to the next county over.

After transferring buses several times, I finally made it back to my university city.

Thankfully, there wasn't much of value in the suitcase I left behind. Losing it was a small price to pay.

I packed up the few remaining belongings I had in my dorm room and went to stay with a friend.

Since they couldn't catch me at the station, my parents would inevitably show up at my campus sooner or later.

Luckily, I had already finished all my required coursework for the semester.

I could use a professional internship as a valid excuse to request a leave of absence from campus.

So all I needed to do now was secure an internship. My parents couldn't stake out the university forever.

5

When my friend Sarah heard what happened, she immediately came to pick me up.

Sarah and I went to high school together.

Her grades weren't great, so she didn't get into college. Instead, she moved to the city where my university was located to work.

We regularly grabbed dinner together, and over the years, we became incredibly close.

In the car, she couldn't stop cursing my parents. "I just don't understand! How can parents be this evil? Aren't they afraid of karma?!"

"Chloe, don't be sad. You can stay at my place for as long as you need."

"If you need anything, just tell me. You're better off without parents like that."

I stared blankly out the window. I wanted to say something, but I didn't even know where to start.

Honestly, I should have realized my mother didn't love me a long time ago.

Sarah came from the exact same financial background as me.

But her parents bought her pretty clothes.

They taught her that no matter how pretty she dressed, it was never her fault if bad people targeted her.

They cooked her favorite meals and told her to eat as much as she wanted, to make up for the lack of nutrition when they were struggling.

When she was bullied, they fought for justice for her, instead of telling her to just swallow it and endure.

The differences had been glaringly obvious for years, but I chose to turn a blind eye.

Because I was so desperate for love.

Children starved of affection will use the tiniest crumb of fake concern to delude themselves, making endless excuses for their abusers.

It’s a survival mechanism to convince ourselves that we, too, are cherished by our parents. That we aren't any different from anyone else.

But you always have to wake up eventually.

I no longer held any hope for them.

6

Knowing how brutal the internship hunt was, I worked part-time jobs while relentlessly sending out resumes.

Thankfully, the universe threw me a bone. Right before the new semester started, I received an offer from a company perfectly aligned with my major.

The salary wasn't great, but it was enough to keep me fed and housed.

I went to the office on my first day, ecstatic.

But to my absolute horror, the very first face I saw was a familiar one—my cousin, David.

David saw me and froze.

He grabbed my arm, pulled me aside, and whispered fiercely, "What are you doing here?! Do you have any idea how worried Auntie and everyone are? They're going crazy looking for you!"

I yanked my arm out of his grip.

I had no idea David worked at this company.

If he knew I was here, he would immediately call my parents.

I couldn't stay.

I bit my lip, devastated to lose the internship I had just secured.

But I knew how to prioritize my survival.

I apologized profusely to the HR manager, told her I couldn't accept the position due to a family emergency, and turned toward the door.

David panicked and actually chased me out of the building. "Hey! Stop!"

"You're an adult, why are you playing this runaway game?! I'm calling Auntie right now."

He pulled out his phone.

I scowled, lunged forward, and snatched the phone from his hand. "David, mind your own damn business."

"How is this none of my business?! You're my blood cousin! Your family's business is my business!"

I eyed him suspiciously.

I hadn't missed the flash of pure, greedy excitement in his eyes the second he recognized me.

David had relentlessly bullied me when we were kids. There was absolutely no way he actually cared about my well-being.

So why was he so happy to see me?

What did he stand to gain from me going home?

Then, I remembered a phone call from my mother a while back. She was complaining that David's girlfriend was demanding a massive bride price to marry him.

Suddenly, everything clicked.

My older female cousin, Jessica, was incredibly capable.

With zero financial support from our family, she had worked herself to the bone, saved her own money, and gone abroad for her master's degree.

After graduating, she landed a great job overseas and never came back.

Growing up, I heard my mother curse Jessica's name countless times.

She called Jessica a heartless sociopath.

She said Jessica was making so much money, but instead of "giving back to the family" by buying her little brother a house and a car, she selfishly spent it all on studying abroad.

And to make matters worse, after the family patiently waited for her to finish her degree, she had the audacity to stay abroad and abandon them.

She called her a treacherous, ungrateful wolf.

My mother constantly used Jessica as a negative example, warning me never to end up like her.

But now, I finally understood what Jessica's actions truly meant.

It meant absolute freedom. It meant she had severed their chains forever.

It was precisely because Jessica had successfully escaped that my mother was terrified I would do the same once I got my degree.

That was why she was trying to clip my wings right now.

And David, having lost his primary blood bag in Jessica, had set his sights on me.

I just didn't know exactly what lies he had fed my parents to get them on board.

Realizing this, any remaining shred of politeness vanished. "I'm warning you, keep your scheming hands off me. From now on, if we see each other on the street, we are strangers."

I turned to walk away, but David grabbed my shoulder. "You're not going anywhere."

"I just don't get you women! You're all going to get married eventually anyway! If your maiden family isn't powerful, you'll just get bullied by your in-laws! Instead of staying and helping me build our family's wealth, you're all running away. What is wrong with you?!"

He was looking at me, but I knew he was cursing Jessica just as much.

Tired of his relentless grip, I snapped. I spun around and delivered a devastating, full-force kick squarely to his groin.

"Go to hell, you parasite! You'll literally die if you don't have a woman to leach off of, won't you?!"

The kick landed perfectly. David collapsed to the pavement, clutching himself and howling in agony.

I used the opening to sprint away.

7

When I got back to Sarah's apartment, I was still seething.

For years, I was kept in the dark, naively believing that if I just studied hard, I could elevate my family and give us all a better life.

Now I realized that the people I called "family" were nothing but a pack of ravenous wolves waiting to devour me.

I gritted my teeth and started sending out resumes again.

I refused to let them win.

Miraculously, the very next day, my luck turned.

A company that had previously rejected me suddenly reached out with an offer.

It was a long commute, but right now, it was an absolute lifesaver.

I completed the onboarding process immediately.

But I had only been working for a few days when my mother orchestrated her next disaster.

During my lunch break, my coworker, Linda, suddenly tapped my arm. "Chloe... is this you?"

I looked at her phone screen.

In the video, a couple was holding a massive banner outside the main gates of my university, demanding the school "return their daughter."

Next to them was a giant, blown-up photograph.

It was a picture of me.

And the couple was my parents.

My face instantly burned with humiliation.

My academic advisor knew I was off-campus doing an internship.

Because I was terrified my parents would contact the school to track me down, I had already confided in my advisor about my family situation.

He was a very kind man and had promised to keep my whereabouts completely confidential, assuring me he would notify me if they showed up.

But I never anticipated that my parents would bypass the administration entirely and bring a swarm of journalists directly to the university gates.

Even worse, because my advisor refused to give them my location, they publicly accused him of grooming me.

They screamed to the cameras that he had "corrupted" me, leading me astray and manipulating me into running away from home.

In a matter of hours, keywords like [University Grooming Scandal] and [Professor Seduces Student] catapulted the video to the top of the trending charts.

The comment section was a cesspool of vile accusations.

[That’s disgusting. He needs to be fired immediately and put in jail.]

[It takes two to tango. I bet that girl isn't as innocent as she looks.]

[That professor looks old enough to have a wife and kids. Female college students are so cheap these days. I heard some of them will jump into any luxury car they see. Disgusting.]

I could feel Linda staring at me, her eyes filled with suspicion and judgment.

I didn't have time to explain. I immediately asked for the afternoon off, hailed a cab, and rushed back to campus.

A massive crowd had formed at the main gates.

My father stood to the side, acting like a cold, devastated observer.

My mother was holding a megaphone, screaming until her voice cracked: "My perfectly obedient daughter is missing! How is this university going to compensate us?!"

My advisor and the campus security were desperately trying to calm them down, but it was useless.

The scene was chaotic, and several people in the crowd were live-streaming the spectacle on their phones.

I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed my way to the front. "How long are you going to keep doing this?!"

When my mother saw me, her eyes lit up. "Chloe! You're here!"

She lunged forward, grabbing my arm in a death grip, terrified I would run again. "Come on, we're going home."

I aggressively snatched the megaphone out of her hand. I spoke directly into it, my voice echoing across the crowd.

"Go home with you for what? So you can force me to marry a thirty-five-year-old deadbeat and use my bride price to buy David a house?!"

The moment the words left the speaker, the entire crowd went dead silent.

My mother's face twisted in panic. "What nonsense are you spewing?! You really have been brainwashed by him!"

She glared venomously at my advisor.

I let out a cold, sharp laugh. "I've been brainwashed? Then please, define what 'obedient' means to you."

"Does 'obedient' mean that because you didn't have new clothes growing up, I'm forbidden from having new clothes?"

"Does 'obedient' mean that because you went hungry as a child, I have to silently endure starvation so you feel 'balanced'?"

"Or does 'obedient' mean that because you never got to go to college, I have to drop out and ruin my life just so you don't feel jealous of me?!"

My mother's carefully constructed victim facade shattered. "Who told you that?! What are you talking about?!"

She looked around frantically, her eyes locking onto the journalist she had brought with her.

The journalist stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation.

This particular guy was a notorious clickbait blogger. He specialized in fabricating sensational outrage to farm views.

I didn't know if my parents found him, or if he hunted them down for the story.

Regardless, I wasn't going to give them an inch.

"Stop acting," I said into the megaphone. "I saw every single word you posted on that forum."

"You wrote that you suffered so much, and if I got to live a better life without lifting a finger, it was 'unfair.' So your grand plan was to force me to marry into the same miserable village, walk the exact same path you did, and eat the exact same bitterness you ate."

The crowd erupted into shocked whispers, their previously sympathetic gazes turning into looks of absolute disgust toward my mother.

My mother’s face turned the color of ash. "Chloe, you must have read it wrong! Why would your own mother ever say something like that?!"

"Did your advisor tell you to say this?! He’s an old creep grooming young girls! He’s absolute trash, I’m calling the cops on him right now!"

She frantically tried to use the fabricated grooming scandal to change the subject.

I looked at her with dead eyes. "I have screenshots of every single comment you made on my phone."

My mother froze for a few seconds, her mouth opening and closing as she desperately searched for another lie.

But before she could speak, police sirens wailed in the distance, quickly approaching the campus gates.

My parents looked completely bewildered.

I spoke clearly into the megaphone. "I already called the cops."

"A university is a public institution. You caused a massive public disturbance, maliciously defamed my academic advisor, and slandered my reputation online. You broke the law, and now you're going to face the consequences."