Part 2Cold Cash, Colder Hearts

There was one day left before the deadline to pay the dues for senior graduation events and AP exam fees.

I still couldn't get ahold of my parents for the money.

Their automatic reply was always that they were too busy.

But then, my sister and brother updated their Instagram stories.

Chloe, my older sister, posted a photo.

She was twirling in a brand-new dress, beaming at the camera. Mom was standing right next to her, a gentle hand on Chloe's shoulder.

They looked identical—both beautiful, elegant, and perfectly composed.

The caption read: 【Thanks for the early graduation gift, Mom! Love you mean it~】

Then, Dylan, my younger brother, updated his story.

He was on a basketball court, mid-shot, with Dad right beside him correcting his form.

Both of them were wearing matching, brand-new varsity-style Jordan tracksuits.

The caption read: 【Dad said I needed to blow off some steam before finals. No pressure.】

I stared at those photos for a long, long time.

They weren't busy.

They were just busy for me, their discarded daughter.

A familiar bitterness spread through my chest, thick as bile.

I should have known by now. I was the leftover piece of the puzzle. The one that didn't fit.

It was just like the day they settled the divorce.

In the mediator's office, when the question of custody came up.

Mom didn't hesitate. "I want Chloe," she said.

She looked at my sister, her eyes brimming with maternal pride.

"She’s responsible, she listens, and her personality is just like mine. She’s going to go far."

Dad was just as quick to speak up. "I'm definitely taking Dylan."

He slapped my brother on the shoulder, his face lighting up with anticipation.

"This kid is a natural athlete. He's going to follow in my footsteps, maybe even go pro, or at least join the force."

The mediator glanced down at the case file, frowning. "There’s a third child. Jordan."

My parents both froze.

"Oh. Right. Jordan."

Then, the hot potato game began again.

"I've already got one," Mom said, her voice turning sharp. "I can't afford two on my schedule."

"She carries your family name, Miller," Dad retorted. "She should be with you."

"Jordan is a girl. She needs her mother."

"My shifts are chaotic at the hospital. I can't be leaving the OR to deal with a teenager..."

I sat in the corner, watching them fight over who didn't have to take me.

Finally, I broke the stalemate.

"I can live by myself," I said. "Just send me child support."

And that was that. I started my life alone, in a small studio apartment, never quite eating enough.

I watched the school group chat notifications blow up. Screenshot after screenshot of paid fees.

I was the only one left. The homeroom teacher private messaged me, reminding me that if the dues weren't paid by tomorrow, I wouldn't walk at graduation or get my AP scores.

I read the message, biting my lip hard, trying to ignore the dull ache in my stomach.

I had only eaten a single dollar burrito today because my bank account balance was currently negative.

But I couldn't worry about hunger right now.

This wasn't just about food. This was about my future.

If I couldn't even take my AP exams or graduate properly, I was trapped. I’d be stuck in this cycle of poverty forever.

I had to get that money.

Since they wouldn't answer my calls or texts, I had to go find them.

Mom's apartment was the closest to the school.

I decided to start there.