I stumbled out of the advisor’s office in a daze, my head spinning.
I remembered that card, but there was no way it could have $200,000 in it.
Mom had opened it when I was born as my “trousseau card“-basically storing all the red envelope money I’d gotten over the years.
After all these years, it should’ve had maybe $10,000 tops.
But Mom had taken that card and closed it ages ago.
We’d gotten into this huge fight over something stupid, and she said she wouldn’t give me a penny when I got married.
I’d gotten all stubborn and told her she’d die alone with no one to take care of her.
Mom was so pissed she grabbed that card and marched straight to the bank to close it.
So how the hell was it still active?
Who had transferred $200,000 into it?
And most importantly–where was the card now?
I pulled out my phone and dialed Mom’s number from memory.
No answer.
That’s when I remembered–a year ago she’d kicked me out, and for the entire past year, we’d had zero contact.
We’d officially cut ties as mother and daughter.
Chapter 4
She probably didn’t want to take my call anyway.
But this was a new number–why wouldn’t she answer that either?
I remembered Dad mentioning on WhatsApp that Mom was sick. Could that actually be
true?
Panic rising in my chest, I hung up and ran back to my dorm.
When I’d left home, I’d only taken one suitcase–the only thing I’d brought from home.
It just had some clothes stuffed in it, nothing else.
The suitcase had been shoved under my bed, covered in dust.
Mom had given it to me as a gift when I got into the prestigious high school.
At the time, I’d complained about the ugly color and how bulky it was–wanted to exchange it for something cuter.
Mom said it had great capacity and really good storage features.
“It even has hidden compartments for cash and bank cards and stuff.”
“The salesperson said that was a selling point–lots of people buy it for that.”
I wiped the dust off, my panic growing.
The inside was empty, but at the very bottom was a metal panel with a latch.
I opened the latch, revealing a hidden compartment.
All this time, I’d just used it as a clothes container, never bothering to check any of the pockets or compartments.
Hell, because Mom had packed it, I’d even thought about replacing it.
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Chapter 4
I opened the compartment and found a combination lock.
I entered the last three digits of my birthday.
Click–it opened.
Inside was a sealed bag.
The bag contained a property deed, a bank card, and… a letter.
I opened the letter. The familiar handwriting made my heart skip.
The words were scrawled hastily, urgently, like they’d been written in secret during some chaotic situation.
“Delia, don’t come home. Never come back.”
“Keep the deed and money safe. Don’t worry about me. Even if I die, don’t come back…”
Just two short lines, but they made my blood run cold.
What the hell had happened to Mom? What did she mean, even if she died?
The deed…
I flipped to the property document underneath the letter and opened it.
Our 860–square–foot place in the school district–the owner was listed as me.
Mom had actually transferred the house to my name?
Did Dad know?
Dad had been scheming over that house forever, practically wanting to move his entire hometown family in with us.
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Chapter 4
And Mom had secretly transferred it to me right under his nose?
I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my face without me realizing it.
Something had definitely happened to Mom.
Once I pulled myself together, I quickly packed my suitcase and booked the earliest flight back home.
During the entire trip, I called Mom over a dozen times. Every single call went unanswered.
I tried calling Dad. When he picked up, he was absolutely livid.
“Delia, do you have our property deed?”
“Hand it over right now. That’s MY house!”
After landing, I went straight to the bank to pull all the transaction records for that card.
With Dad constantly draining our money to fill the bottomless pit of his hometown family, where could she have possibly saved up $200,000?
The bank records came up quickly, showing every transaction on the card clear as day.
The earliest deposit: $200, from the end of the year I was born.
The latest deposit: $200,000, on the day I finished my SATS, at 3 PM that afternoon.
Wait a minute. Wasn’t that when Mom was posting those three house rules in the group chat, trying to push me out?
She was transferring money to me while simultaneously cutting ties with me?
My head was spinning. I had no idea why Mom would do this.
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Chapter 4
Dad kept calling me like a maniac.
“How much money did your mom give you? Do you have any respect for your parents?”
“Give the money back right now, or I’ll dump your mom at the hospital to fend for herself.”
My anxious heart quickly steadied.
Without getting his hands on the money, he wouldn’t dare actually abandon Mom.
Dad was all bark and no bite–a coward who bullied the weak but feared the strong, simple–minded and naive.
He thought if he poured his heart and soul into his hometown family, Grandpa and Grandma would finally value him, and his siblings would respect him.
In reality, he was a joke wherever he went.
As I rushed home, I warned him: “If anything happens to Mom, you’ll never see a penny.”
“Mom already transferred the house to my name. I’m the owner now.”
“I’m not like Mom–I don’t have any feelings for you.”
Dad immediately exploded, unleashing a torrent of profanity.
I covered the phone, treating it like he was just farting.
Right now, the most important thing was finding out what had happened to Mom.
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