Chapter 2

I opened the door to my BMW X5 and tossed the heavy jewelry box onto the passenger seat.

It rested there quietly—a glaring, heavy symbol of irony.

I unlocked my phone and opened a password-protected note.

It held a detailed, bullet-pointed record of every single dime I had poured into this so-called "family" over the past five years, ever since I graduated college and launched my independent studio.

Paying for Leo's tuition and living expenses at a low-tier private college for four years: eighty thousand dollars.

When he graduated and whined that real corporate jobs were too exhausting, I gave him forty thousand to start a "business"—which crashed and burned within six months.

When he decided to marry, Chloe demanded a luxury downtown condo.

I withdrew the largest profit my studio had ever made and paid a two-hundred-thousand-dollar down payment for him.

The deed was signed under his name alone.

Every single month, like clockwork, I wired Martha three thousand dollars in allowance just so she wouldn't feel insecure around her wealthy bridge friends.

...

Altogether, it added up to well over half a million dollars.

I had always believed that blood came first. That sacrificing for them was what an older sister was supposed to do.

I thought my support would help them live better lives and bring our family closer.

I was dead wrong.

I wasn't raising a family. I was feeding a pack of insatiable leeches.

My talent, my sleepless nights, my accomplishments—in their eyes, they were nothing more than chips waiting to be cashed out at an ATM.

Tonight's seventy-five grand finally woke me up completely.

Good. Since they had severed the last shred of genuine affection, they shouldn't blame me when I started treating our relationship purely as business.

Just as I started the engine, my phone buzzed.

It was Sophie, my business partner and closest friend.

"Hey, Master Jeweler! Family dinner wrapped up already? Did your sapphire masterpiece blow their tiny minds?" Sophie’s voice was as vibrant as ever.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. A sudden sting hit my nose, and tears threatened to spill.

"Sophie," I choked out, my voice thick. "They demanded cash instead."

Silence fell over the line for three full seconds.

"...What the actual fuck?!" she exploded, furious. "Those ungrateful parasites! Vivian, where are you right now? Don't sit alone. Come over to my place, let’s finish a bottle of tequila."

"No need," I took a deep breath, forcing down the storm in my chest until my voice turned steady and cold. "No drinks tonight. Do me a favor instead. Open the studio safe and pull out that natural royal emerald piece I won at the Sotheby's auction last year."

"You mean 'Spring Tide'? But that's your baby! You were saving it as the flagship centerpiece for our new collection!"

"Not anymore." I stared at the neon reflections sliding across my windshield, every word deliberate. "I'm finding it a new owner."

A family that only understood dollar bills did not deserve a single ounce of my soul.

Years ago, my husband had been abroad on a long-term academic research fellowship, and his parents had long passed away. If not for sheer desperation, I would have never begged my mother for help.

It was during the rockiest phase of launching my brand. Cash flow had dried up completely, and I desperately needed thirty thousand dollars as a bridge loan to save my lease.

Cornered with nowhere else to turn, I went to Martha for the first time in my life.

She was sitting at a poker table, shuffling cards. After hearing my plea, she didn't even bother looking up at me.

"Why does a girl need such a big career anyway? Just find a rich husband to settle down with. What kind of money can that dinky little studio make? Thirty thousand dollars? Do you have any idea what kind of car that could buy for your brother? I don’t have any money for you."

Yet barely two weeks later, she called me beaming with pride, bragging that she had handed Leo forty-five thousand dollars to buy a brand-new Audi A6.

Her reason? "A man needs a decent ride for status. He can't get a quality girlfriend driving a beater."