Chapter 1 The Abandoned Studio

Unable to reach me and under pressure from my grandfather, my family finally found themselves reluctantly standing in front of a decrepit art studio on the east side.

Ethan Monroe pinched his nose. "How can that loser live in a dump like this? Mom, Dad, I don't want to go in!"

"Fine, fine. You two head back. Your mother and I will handle this," my father replied.

Violet Monroe clung to my father's arm, her face painted with false concern. "Honestly, can't Olivia ever grow up? She ignored all our calls and messages, and now you two had to drive all the way out here."

"I'll make her regret this!" My father's eyes flashed with anger as he dragged my mother inside.

They climbed three flights of narrow stairs, wheezing as they finally stopped in front of unit 3D.

When my mother knocked, a heavily tattooed man in a stained tank top answered. "Yeah? Who're you looking for?"

Seeing him instantly set my father off. "What's your relationship with my daughter, and why are you living here?"

My mother pushed past him, her voice shrill as she shouted, "Olivia! Get out here! Have you really been shacking up with some random man without telling us?"

Just then, a thin woman with track marks on her arms shuffled into view.

"Wrong place, lady. We've been here three months now," she muttered.

My mother's impatience was palpable. "This is the address my daughter, Olivia, gave us. How could we be wrong?"

The tattooed man, fed up with my mother's refusal to listen, shoved her toward the door. "Get lost! You don't even know where your own kid lives, and you call yourselves parents!"

The woman added, "Is Olivia the girl before us? Landlord said she skipped out on two months' rent and couldn't be reached, so we took over."

Hearing this, my mother's face twisted with rage. "She moved without a word? Well, this was a waste of time. What an ungrateful daughter!"

Just as they were about to storm off, the landlord arrived.

Upon learning they were my parents, he immediately began demanding payment. "You need to settle her back rent right now. And clear out her junk from the storage closet—I need the space!"

My parents, skeptical, followed the landlord to a dim storage room where my things had been piled.

Dust covered everything, untouched for three months.

My father recognized some of my worn jackets. "Yeah, those are hers."

My mother wrinkled her nose, coldly stating, "Is Olivia doing this on purpose? Leaving all this garbage for us to deal with?"

The landlord couldn't hold back anymore. "It's not garbage; these are her belongings! There are sketchbooks and important documents in there. She was a decent kid; I kept everything safe for her."

My mother waved him off dismissively.

The storage closet reeked of mildew and rot.

Holding her nose, she stepped back outside and dialed my number.

After several unanswered rings, she left a voicemail.

"Olivia, are you done with this ridiculous tantrum? Your father and I are standing at your studio right now. You'd better show up and explain yourself!"

Her usual tone dripped with contempt, her disgust unfiltered.

She wasn't surprised that I hadn't replied to Ethan's messages.

After all, my younger brother and I had become bitter enemies thanks to Violet's constant manipulation.

But ignoring a call from her own mother? That was unprecedented.

Frustrated, she turned to my father and said flatly, "Let's just go home. I can't stand being in this neighborhood another second!"

The landlord, overhearing, glared at her. "Lady, that's harsh. Anyway, are you taking her stuff or not? If not, I'm tossing it all tomorrow."

Realizing he wouldn't get rent money from my parents, the landlord threw up his hands.

Without looking back, my mother walked away.

Enraged, the landlord called after them, "Don't you have any compassion? Your daughter hasn't been heard from in three months. Aren't you worried something might've happened to her?"

My mother sneered over her shoulder. "That girl has nine lives. If anything happened to her, I'd be shocked!"

When they got home, my mother called my grandfather.

"Dad, what's so special about that ungrateful brat? You can leave everything to Violet and Ethan; why bother with Olivia?"

My spirit hovered nearby, unable to suppress a bitter laugh.

I was their only real daughter. Why did they hate me so much?