Raised to be Broke

On the day I filled out my college applications, I finally realized the truth. My family was not poor. Only I was. I had ranked in the top ten in the entire state, and the admissions office told me I could choose any Ivy League school I wanted with full tuition waived. I was overjoyed, already about to call my parents with the good news when a new message suddenly popped up on my phone. 'Look at you celebrating, you poor child. Your family isn't poor at all! Even if your parents know your score, they'll only make you apply to some mediocre local university. They'll even use your scholarship money to buy your brother a new watch. 'Your brother, who supposedly went out to work, is living it up in Mariner's Bay—huge apartment, sports car, 300 thousand a month for living expenses. He's living the high life. You're the only one who thinks your family is poor. They're just afraid you'll find out they have money and try to take your brother's share. Poor thing. 'Hurry up and use your college applications as a chance to escape your family, or you'll spend your whole life as your brother's cash cow!' Chapter 1 A Lie Called Family I stood frozen where I was, thinking my phone had glitched. But the message box did not disappear. The excitement I had been holding onto slowly faded. I gripped my phone tightly, staring at the shocking lines of text scrolling across the screen. My name was Roxanna James, and I did have an older brother. Three years ago, after graduating from college, he had gone to Mariner's Bay to work. I had always thought he was struggling. Every time my scholarship money came in, my parents would sigh heavily at home. It was only when I suggested giving the money to my brother that they would finally smile. So what was all this? Meanwhile, more messages flooded the screen, one after another. 'Your brother is just coasting as the hands-off boss of your family's subsidiary! He doesn't have to do anything and still gets paid. Look up the legal representative of Heritage Holdings. That's your father, the one who cries poverty every day!' 'They only stay in that rundown house when you're back from the dorms. The rest of the time, they live in Riverbay One.' Riverbay One. The most famous luxury residential district in the city. Every inch of land worth a fortune, units priced in the tens of millions. My face went pale. All the excitement drained out of me, sinking back into a hollow, uneasy calm. I stood there, lost, not knowing what I was supposed to do next. That day, I wandered outside until nightfall. When I finally returned home, I told my parents the good news. Just like the messages had predicted, neither of them looked happy. My mother pressed her lips together before speaking, her tone hesitant. "Roxy… your dad and I have talked about it. The train tickets to Kingston are too expensive. Why don't you just apply to the university nearby?" My head shot up. My father must have thought I was unwilling, because he immediately slammed his cutlery down. "Roxy, our family is dirt poor. Don't tell me you want to go all the way to Kingston for college! "Once you're in university, you can work part-time on weekends. And when your scholarship money comes in, transfer it to your brother. He needs to buy a car. He has to keep up appearances at work. You're a girl, you don't need that much money!" My heart went completely cold. After coming home, I started noticing the obvious. There was no trace of grease in the kitchen. The bottles and jars on the stove looked almost untouched. No clothes were hanging out to dry on the balcony, and there were barely any personal belongings in the living room. The only things in this house that actually belonged to anyone… were mine. After my father slammed his cutlery down, silence fell over the room. My mother hurried to smooth things over. "The local university isn't bad. It's close to home. You can come back on weekends for meals." I wanted to say I had a scholarship. I wanted to say I could work. But my father did not give me the chance. He stood up and walked over to me. "When you get to university, transfer your scholarship money to your brother. He has it rough, working out there. A man needs his dignity. He has to have a car." It was precisely as the messages had said. The excitement in me was extinguished in an instant, like my own parents had poured a bucket of cold water over my head. My mother nodded in agreement. "That's right, Roxy. Your brother is working hard in Mariner's Bay. As his sister, you should support him." The message box popped up again. 'Can you believe her parents? A 25-year-old brother living lavishly still needs his barely adult sister to support him. The nerve!' 'Poor child. They clearly—' "Doesn't Colin have his food and housing covered?" I asked. "That still costs money!" my mother snapped, her voice rising. "Your brother only earns so little. If you don't care about him, who will?" I fell silent. I lowered my head and looked at my shoes. They were canvas sneakers that cost thirty dollars. I had worn them for three years. But the message box was telling me my brother's monthly allowance was more than 300 thousand. I pressed my lips together, forcing my tears back. "I understand, Mom, Dad. I'll apply there." My parents both let out a sigh of relief in response. My mother passed me a plate. I hurriedly took a few bites, then returned to my room. Chapter 2 A Future Torn in Half Back in my room, I pulled out my phone. That strange chat box was still there, and new messages kept popping up. 'Honestly, this family is disgusting. They clearly have money, but they won't even buy their daughter a decent pair of shoes. They buy the son a house and a car, yet in eighteen years, the daughter hasn't even spent half a month of his allowance. My heart aches for her.' 'If this girl had any sense, she'd have figured it out by now. That house is practically empty. Every time she goes back to the dorms, her parents move back into their luxury apartment. Her mom's bracelet is gold-plated silver, and her dad even has a chauffeur driving him to work.' 'Exactly. If they're going to pretend to be poor, they should at least make it convincing. Only this clueless girl believes it and hands over all her money.' 'You say it as if they're desperate for her pocket change. They just don't want her to have any money of her own at all!' I stared at the screen, my fingers turning cold. … The next morning at breakfast, my father brought up applying to the local university again, while my mother kept putting food on my plate, saying, "We only have your best interests." I gave a small hum and lowered my head, silently eating my oatmeal. As soon as I finished, I left the house. I slipped into the office building across from our residential complex and crouched by the window next to the elevator hall on the sixth floor, watching the street below. After about ten minutes, my father walked out of our building. A black Bentley rolled up and stopped in front of him, then the chauffeur stepped out to open the door for him. Soon after, the car merged into traffic and disappeared from my sight. I stayed crouched behind the window, my phone still raised in midair, frozen. The night before, my father had said he could not afford my train ticket to Kingston. But he went to work in a Bentley. They lived in their luxury apartment on weekdays and only returned to this shabby place when I was home, pretending to be poor. I saved the photo, stood up, brushed the dust off my clothes, and turned toward school. The school had called the day before. With my score, I could attend an admissions consultation meeting. My homeroom teacher knew about my situation and had told me the universities that were willing to offer full scholarships. I hesitated for a long time. In the end, I gave up the Ivy League and applied to the National Defense Institute of Technology. … Two weeks later, a courier called. I picked up the kraft envelope at the entrance of my residential complex and crouched by the flowerbed to open it. The letters "NDIT" were embossed in gold on the red cover, with a bright red official seal stamped below. I read the acceptance letter over and over again, then carefully folded it, slipped it back into the envelope, and tucked it into my backpack. When I got home, I had just inserted the key into the lock when the door was suddenly pulled open from the inside. My mother stood there. She reached out and yanked my entire backpack off my shoulder. My face went pale as I realized what was about to happen. "Mom, don't—" She ignored me, unzipped the bag, and dumped everything out onto the coffee table. The envelope fell on top with a soft thud. She tore it open and pulled out the letter. After just one glance, she ripped it in half. "No!" I rushed forward to grab it back, but she shoved me away hard. "NDIT?" Her hand came down across my face. Pain exploded across my cheek. "Answer me. Who told you to apply there?" I raised a hand to cover my face. "I chose it myself." She stood up and stormed over, slapping me again. My head turned to the side, my cheek burning and my ears ringing. She grabbed my hair and yanked me back, her nails digging into my scalp. "I told you to apply locally! I told you not to disobey me! You ungrateful brat! Do you think you can do whatever you want now?" She dragged me by the hair. I stumbled backward, my lower back slamming into the edge of the shoe cabinet, the pain forcing a sharp gasp out of me. My father stood up and walked over, grinding his foot over the torn pieces on the floor. "Roxanna James, you did this on purpose, didn't you?" "I—" "Don't even argue! Don't you know your brother needs to change his car? Now that your scholarship is gone, what's he supposed to do?" My ears rang. "But that's my scholarship." My voice was not loud, but the room fell silent for two seconds before my mother exploded again. She grabbed a torn piece of the letter from the table and threw it at my face. The sharp edge scraped across my eyelid with a sting. "Yours? I gave you everything you have! You lived under my roof for 18 years, and you tell me that's yours?" My father shoved me. My back slammed into the wall, the back of my head hitting the coat hook. My vision went black for a moment. He pointed at my nose. "Call your school right now and tell them you're not going. Do you hear me?" I leaned against the wall and slowly straightened up, saying nothing. "Call them!" my father roared. The neighbor's door opened. Kimberly from across the hall poked her head out, then hesitated and left the door half-open, watching through the mesh screen. Upstairs, Steven came down to throw out the trash and stopped at the stairwell. "What's going on over there…" Kimberly asked gingerly. My mother did not even turn around. "We're disciplining our child. It's none of your business!" I leaned against the wall. Blood from the corner of my mouth smeared onto the collar of my school uniform. I stared at the fragments on the floor—the red cover split the letters "NIDT" into two, the official seal shattered into pieces. "I'm not calling," I said. My mother tossed the scraps into the trash. "You won't, huh? Fine. Pack your things and go back to the countryside in a couple of days." I looked up. "Your grandmother needs someone to take care of her. You'll go wash clothes, cook, and work in the fields. When you've come to your senses, you can come back. National Defense Institute of Technology? Dream on." My father sat down on the sofa. "I've already booked your ticket for tomorrow morning." I crouched down and picked up my scattered textbooks and notes one by one. I gathered the torn pieces of the acceptance letter too. Outside, night had fallen. The sound of the evening news drifted from the living room. I could hear my mother humming in the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans oddly cheerful. A ticket for the next morning. They were going to send me to the countryside, lock me away at my grandmother's house, and wait until I "came to my senses." And just like that, I knew I had to leave that night. Chapter 3 Every Cent Stolen Only after the noise outside had completely quieted down did I crouch beside the bed and pull out the metal box from underneath. Inside was all the money I had saved over the past three years—just over 20 thousand. I remembered every single bit of it clearly: prize money, part-time wages, Christmas gift money. My living expenses had never been something I could save from. For three years, I had scrimped on food and clothing just to save this much. And this money might have been all I had left. My hands trembled as I opened the lid, but the box was empty. Not even a single coin remained. I shot to my feet and flipped the box over onto the bed, shaking it hard. I turned it back over and searched every corner. Nothing. Twenty thousand. Gone without a trace. I rushed out of my room. The living room lights were still on. My mother was sitting on the sofa, a sheet mask on her face. "Where's my money?" My voice was dry, like sandpaper. She did not even look up. "Used it to buy your brother a few things." I walked closer and saw a phone, a tablet, and a pair of earphones spread across the coffee table. All brand new. The plastic wrap had not even been peeled off. "Twenty thousand," I said, my throat tightening. "I saved that 20 thousand over three years, and you used it to buy these for Colin?" Colin James was scrolling through the tablet, a faint smile on his lips, not even sparing me a glance. "Roxy, it's just 20 thousand. A girl doesn't need that much money. Besides, you don't even have expenses. What's the point of saving it?" My mother's fingers pressed against the edge of the phone box, her knuckles turning white. She avoided my gaze, not daring to look up. "Your brother's phone was old. He needs it for work." I let out a laugh. The scab at the corner of my lips split and stung, but I still laughed. "His phone was old? Colin, take out your phone." His hands paused as he unboxed the tablet. "Take it out." I stared at him. He pulled out a phone—dark gray, spotless, not a single scratch. Last year's latest model. It had cost more than 8,000 dollars. "You call this old? It was the newest model just last year, over 8,000. And you're telling me it's old?" My mother froze mid-motion, her sheet mask half-peeled. "It… it's laggy…" "Laggy?" I laughed again. "Did the new phone lag or the old one? Have you even touched it? Used it? He just said, 'Mom, my phone's a bit slow,' and you went and bought him a new one. You spent my entire twenty thousand clean. And me? I've told you eight times my shoes were worn through after three years. Did you ever care?" "You can't put it like that—" "How should I put it then? Do you dare tell me what kind of house you actually live in at Mariner's Bay, Colin? You keep telling me how hard your life is out there, working yourself to the bone. Tell me then—who bought the sports cars you show off on social media? Also, the watch on your wrist is enough to cover my living expenses for five years. And you're short of this 20 thousand for a phone?" Colin slammed his old phone down onto the sofa, his voice suddenly rising. "I live in a dorm. What sports car are you talking about? Stop making things up! Mom! Look at her!" "What are you yelling for?" I raised my voice too. "What are you so guilty about? Tell me which part I got wrong!" "Shut up!" Colin stood up, his face flushed red. "You live off this family. So what if I spent your 20 thousand? Don't you dare complain!" "I can't complain? Where were you when I was working past midnight? Where were you when I was going hungry at school? You live on 300 thousand a month, yet you still fight me over 20 thousand. Colin James, have you no shame at all?" Chapter 4 Eight Hours to Escape His eyes widened, and he pointed at me, unable to get a word out. My mother panicked beside him, her sheet mask slipping off. "That's enough! Stop arguing. Your brother has it hard—" "Hard? He gets 300 thousand a month, lives in a luxury apartment, drives sports cars, and he has it hard?" My mother's lips trembled, her gaze starting to dart away. Just then, my father walked out of the bedroom, his face cold as he took in the scene in the living room. "What are you all yelling about in the middle of the night?" "Dad!" Colin immediately found his backing. "Look at her—" "Enough." My father raised a hand to cut him off, then looked at me. "I told them to take the money. You have a problem with that?" "I do." "Keep it to yourself." His tone was flat. "What does a girl need with so much education? Pack your things tomorrow and go back to the countryside to your grandmother's place. Stay there. Don't go to school anymore." I stared at him. The scab at the corner of my lips split again, the taste of blood spreading in my mouth. "You go to work in a Bentley, with a chauffeur opening the door for you, and you tell people back in the village you're just a security guard at a factory. "You live in a luxury apartment in the city, but make me stay in that rundown place, wearing other people's cast-offs. You tell everyone our family is too poor to support my education. Lincoln James… Don't you ever have nightmares at night?" My father's expression turned grim. That cold, superior look on his face cracked, and something furious surged up beneath it. "Say that again." "A black Bentley. Plate number ending in 38. It comes to pick you up downstairs at 7.40 every morning. The chauffeur opens the door for you. I even took photos. Want to see them?" "You—" My father's face flushed a dark purple, his hand lifting. Colin stood there, stunned. My mother's mouth hung open, no words coming out. "You took pictures of your father?" My father's finger trembled as he pointed at me. "How dare you stalk me? Roxanna, you—" "What about me?" I stood in the middle of the living room, looking straight at him. "What are you afraid of? Afraid people will find out you're rich but won't spend a cent on me? Afraid they'll find out your daughter wears broken shoes while your son drives sports cars? You're afraid of many things. But whether I survive or not has never been one of them." His hand came down. A sharp crack rang out. My head snapped to the side, and half my face went numb. I staggered backward, my shoulder hitting the shoe cabinet. Stars exploded in my vision, but I did not fall. I braced myself against the cabinet and forced myself upright. I looked at him, blood dripping from the corner of my mouth onto the collar of my school uniform. My mother gasped, covering her mouth. Colin took a step back. My father was breathing heavily. His hand was still raised, and his eyes were bloodshot. "Get back to your room. You're leaving tomorrow morning." I stared at him for two seconds, wiped the blood from my mouth, and let out a cold laugh. I turned around, pushed open my bedroom door, walked inside, and shut it behind me. Through the door, I heard my father lower his voice. "How did she find out?" My mother replied, "I don't know. I didn't tell her…" Colin cut in, "Mom, she just said I get 300 thousand a month—" "Shut up!" my father snapped. There was a brief silence. Then his voice came again, steady in a way that was almost frightening. "Richard will come pick her up at six tomorrow morning. Take her straight to the countryside. Don't let her anywhere near a phone." I leaned against the door, listening to their hushed voices outside. I lifted my head and reached into the inner pocket of my backpack. I pulled out a torn piece of the acceptance letter. Only half of the school's abbreviated name remained. My fingers traced the rough, jagged edges of the paper. Blood was still seeping from my lip. I licked it. Salty. Eight hours. In eight hours, they would send me to the countryside and lock me in my grandmother's house. And I might never get out again. I had to run. I refused to become Colin's cash cow. I had to leave this place.