Chapter 1Mom makes thirty million a month overseas. My monthly allowance? Thirty dollars.
Dad tried fighting for me more than once. Nearly got them divorced.
My brother kept calling Mom about it too. Eventually she just stopped picking up.
So yeah, every time hunger cramps hit, I hate her guts.
Then I get a video call. From myself. Ten years older.
"So how'd things turn out? Did I finally cut that witch out of my life?!"
But future me doesn't look victorious. Her eyes go bloodshot instantly.
"You know that 'witch' you're talking about? When your precious dad and brother teamed up and destroyed your kidneys, she gave you one of hers without thinking twice."
"Then she spent every last cent buying you out of that family so they couldn't hurt you anymore. Couldn't even afford post-op meds after. Died in agony on a hospital bed."
I'm staring at her, can't process any of it.
Future me's face twists with rage.
"That million bucks Mom sent every month? They skimmed off $990,000 and handed it to Dad's bastard!"
"Don't believe me? Go check out the estates on the west side of town!"
...
I showed up at the gated community on Riverside.
The security guard blocked my path.
"You can't just walk in here. Who're you looking for?"
I held onto that last shred of hope. "I'm looking for Garrett Pemberton. I'm his daughter."
The guard actually laughed in my face.
"Nice try, kid. Mr. Pemberton's got one son and one daughter. Daughter's name is Sloane."
"He just took Miss Sloane shopping yesterday at Bergdorf's for some runway dress."
"Where'd you crawl out from, thinking you can pretend to be her?"
He tossed a photo at me.
The moment I saw it, ice flooded my veins. My heart just sank.
In the picture, Dad and my brother flanked this girl, grinning like she was their whole world.
And I knew her.
Sloane Pemberton. The most popular girl at Lincoln Prep.
Two months back, she'd casually dropped in class that her family bought her a "little place." Paid in full.
Someone asked how much.
Sloane smirked. "Not much. Just a hair over thirty mil."
Meanwhile, I've been living on thirty bucks a month since freshman year. Three years now.
My hands shook so bad I could barely grip that photo.
When I got home, Dad and my brother were in the living room.
Neither of them noticed how pale I'd gone.
Dad walked over and handed me some cash.
"Harper, here's this month's money. Your mom just sent it over."
"Try to make it stretch."
I looked down at the thirty dollars in my palm. Then back up at him.
His face had that same old warmth and pity painted on it.
My eyes burned. I forced out a bitter laugh.
"Thirty bucks a month. You really wanna watch me starve, huh?"
He caught the edge in my voice. His brow creased.
"You know how your mom gets. If I even mentioned your allowance, she'd be emailing divorce papers again."
I raised an eyebrow, my voice getting louder before I could stop it.
"Oh really?"
"Then next time she calls, I'll ask her myself."
My brother cut in fast, rubbing my head. He slipped a hundred into my hand.
"Worst case, don't run the AC in your room this month."
Then he gave me this playful wink and dropped his voice. "But you can sneak it on. Dad and I won't say anything."
Ever since Mom left for Europe, we've had these "house rules."
I can use appliances—my phone included—but I gotta pay rent for them.
Obviously I can't afford that.
So I only get to use anything two days a month. First and last day.
I can't even count how many nights I've sat in pitch darkness trying to finish homework.
Sometimes in the dead of summer, on my period, the heat would nearly break me.
I'd end up sobbing in the bathroom, soaking myself in cold water just to cool down.
Now, staring at the hundred my brother just gave me—normally I would've been grateful, right?
But all I could think about was something Sloane said once.
She said she's always been sickly, so her family hired some designer to install climate control throughout her house.
Runs 24/7. Just to keep her comfortable.
The way she smiled when she said that. I couldn't stomach it then. I can't stomach it now.
I pushed the money back at them. Kept only the thirty.
"I don't need it."
I made sure every word landed hard.
"I just want what's actually mine."
Then I grabbed my ID from my room and headed to the nearest Chase Bank.
I slid it across the counter.
"Hi, I need to pull up all transaction records for accounts under my name. Last three years."
Chapter 2
The printout came back in a stack hundreds of pages thick.
I stood there in the branch lobby, flipping through them one by one.
Starting freshman year, like clockwork—every first of the month, right after midnight, Mom would wire a million dollars.
Sometimes more.
When she did, there'd be a memo attached.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart."
"Good luck on finals, baby. Treat yourself."
"Happy Children's Day. You'll always be my little girl."
Every single one of those deposits?
Gone within five minutes. Transferred out in huge chunks.
Leaving exactly thirty dollars behind.
By the time I hit the last page, I couldn't breathe.
My chest felt like it was caving in.
Dad married into Mom's family. That's how it worked in our case.
They had two kids. My brother took Dad's last name. I took Mom's.
But even with that setup, Dad always acted like I was his favorite. Always made my brother give in to me, no matter what.
I still remember when I was six, I got really sick.
Dad stayed by my side 24/7, talking to me, helping me fall asleep.
My brother cried and begged the doctors to take whatever organs I needed from him if it meant I'd get better.
That's why I believed every word they ever said to me.
I never questioned them. Not once.
Tears hit the paper, smudging the ink, but I didn't let myself sob out loud.
I folded those statements up carefully, even though my hands were still trembling.
Next day at school, everyone was crowded around Sloane's desk.
She was showing off this bracelet, grinning ear to ear.
"Limited edition. Like, global release."
"I mentioned I liked it and Dad told me he'd just gotten payment for some ninety-thousand-dollar deal. Bought it right there."
Everyone around her gasped and gushed.
I was sitting nearby, chewing on a stale bagel.
Thirty bucks a month meant breakfast was the only meal I could count on.
Then Sloane sauntered over and shoved her wrist right in my face, all teeth.
"Harper, gorgeous, right?"
I didn't miss the smugness in her eyes.
I smiled back, slow.
"Yeah. Stuff bought with someone else's money always looks great."
One of her groupies snapped at me immediately.
"Sloane, ignore her. She's just jealous 'cause she's broke and your parents actually love you."
"For real. Who cares if it's not technically her money? At least her family treats her like she matters."
Sloane didn't even flinch.
She tilted her head, all fake sympathy.
"It's fine. I heard Harper only gets thirty bucks a month for allowance."
"I get why she's bitter."
The whole group burst out laughing.
"Thirty bucks? My dog's food budget is higher than that."
"She's gotta be a charity case or something."
I didn't react to the mockery. Just swallowed the last dry bite of my bagel.
Then I stood up and looked Sloane dead in the eye.
"Funny thing. Yesterday was the day my mom sent over my monthly allowance."
Sloane blinked, confused.
I let my smile stretch wider.
"Mom wired me money yesterday. And your dad's 'project payment' came through yesterday too."
"Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"
I watched her smile freeze on her face.
I'd barely stepped out of the classroom when Mrs. Callahan intercepted me.
She looked uncomfortable as hell. Wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Harper… the scholarship results came back."
Her expression told me everything I needed to know.
My stomach dropped.
I followed her to Principal Morrison's office.
The scholarship I'd busted my ass for? It went to Sloane instead.
Morrison tried to play it off.
Said my mom had called the school personally and requested they give it to someone "more deserving."
I didn't bother calling out his garbage excuse.
I just stared at the amount posted on the wall behind him.
Three thousand dollars.
To Sloane, that was pocket change. One dress.
But when I applied for it a month ago, I'd fantasized about using it to buy real food for once.
Maybe book a motel room for a night just to sleep somewhere with AC.
I didn't say a word. I just turned to Mrs. Callahan.
"Can I borrow your phone?"
Morrison's face went pale. "Harper... what are you doing?"
I smiled, keeping my voice steady.
"Calling the cops. Even if it's my mother, she don't get to steal MY scholarship."
Chapter 3
Morrison's face drained of color.
He immediately whipped out his phone, frantically texting someone.
The police showed up within fifteen minutes.
Right behind them? Dad and my brother, both red-faced and sweating.
Dad reached for my arm the second he walked through the door.
"Harper, stop this. Let's talk at home."
I stepped back out of reach and looked straight at the officer.
"Officer, my family's been abusing me for three years. I only get thirty dollars a month to live on, and now they've stolen my scholarship and given it to someone else."
The officer's expression hardened. He turned to Dad and my brother.
"You two are her legal guardians? Is what she's saying true?"
My brother opened his mouth to cut in, but I spoke first.
"Officer, just so you know—Dad and my brother both told me it was my mom who made all these decisions."
The lead officer immediately turned to his partner.
"Get the mother on the line. Verify this now."
Dad and my brother went sheet-white.
Dad started shooting these desperate looks at Morrison, who jumped in with this nervous, placating smile.
"Officer, I sincerely apologize—this was an administrative error on our end."
"We'll reinstate Harper's scholarship immediately and issue a public correction."
"This whole thing is just a misunderstanding, really."
My brother grabbed my hand, his voice suddenly dripping with warmth.
"Harper, maybe Mom's approach was harsh before."
"But we're family. We can handle this privately."
Dad nodded along frantically. "Exactly. I promise from now on your allowance will go back to normal."
Then he pulled out his phone with shaking hands and transferred me five grand on the spot.
The officer's face softened slightly at that.
But he still gave Dad and my brother a sharp warning about child welfare laws before heading out.
The car ride home was silent as a tomb.
Dad's face was stone. He didn't say a single word.
The second we pulled into our neighborhood, he slammed on the brakes, whipped around, and stared at me with an intensity I'd never seen before.
"You know everything."
It wasn't a question.
My brother scoffed and yanked a thick stack of papers from his bag, throwing them onto the backseat.
When I saw what they were, my hands clenched into fists.
My bank statements.
The ones I'd hidden under my mattress.
He turned around in his seat and gave me this cold, mocking smile.
All that warmth from before? Gone.
"Harper, did you really think you were being slick?"
I bit down hard on my tongue. Didn't say a word.
But the look on my face gave me away.
Now that everything was out in the open, I thought they'd panic. Try to cover their tracks.
Instead, Dad just lit a cigarette and spoke with this casual cruelty.
"Your mom does send you more than thirty bucks a month, yeah."
"But we're holding onto the rest for you. You're way too young to handle that kind of money responsibly."
"Besides, she's overseas because she doesn't wanna deal with you anymore. Your brother and I are the only ones who still treat you like family."
My brother leaned back in the passenger seat, voice dripping with smugness.
"You think we're so terrible? Go find Mom yourself then."
This wave of rage and disbelief crashed through me.
My eyes stung with unshed tears.
Future me had already warned me about this.
They'd systematically cut off every line of contact I had with Mom. One by one. For years.
I swallowed down the bitterness rising in my throat.
My voice came out soft and shaking.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I was wrong."
The second they saw me back down, their faces softened.
As soon as we got inside, I locked myself in my room.
I dug under my bed until I found it—a broken bracelet buried at the very bottom of an old shoebox.
This was the only thing Mom gave me before she left for Europe.
Future me had told me the truth about it:
There's a distress beacon embedded inside.
If the bracelet breaks, it sends an emergency alert straight to Mom's phone.
The day I got that call from my future self, I'd smashed it on purpose.
Now a tiny green light blinked steadily on the broken pieces.
Mom got the signal.
