Sharon, my husband's mother, had always looked down on me, despising me for being poor and unsophisticated, unworthy of her son. I thought that if I just worked hard enough, I could eventually earn her approval. Until I returned from a business trip to find my house had been completely emptied by Sharon. My home had been sold by my husband, Ethan. Just as I was sinking into despair, I received a call from my dad: "Sweetheart, I've got amazing news---your mom and I won the $300 million lottery!" I hung up the phone and suddenly laughed. I couldn't wait to see Ethan's expression when he realized that for a few hundred thousand dollars, he'd thrown away a wife worth hundreds of millions. The metal wheels of the high-speed train scraped against the tracks, emitting a long, reassuring rumble. I dragged my 24-inch suitcase and stood at the familiar door of my home. After half a month of intense business travel, every part of my body screamed with exhaustion. But thinking of Ethan, who always smiled so warmly, a wave of comfort rose in my heart. The commission I'd earned from this project was substantial---enough for us to pay off a full year of mortgage ahead of schedule. I'd even used my project bonus to buy him that watch he'd been talking about for so long. Imagining his delighted expression when he saw the gift, all my exhaustion from the journey melted away. I took out my key, ready to give him a surprise hug. I inserted the key into the lock. It wouldn't turn. Metal scraped against metal with an incompatible, grating sound. I froze. What's going on? I tried again, applying more force. The lock cylinder didn't budge. A faint unease crept up from my heart like a vine. I pulled out my phone and called Ethan. "Hello, the number you have dialed is currently on another call. Please try again later." The cold mechanical female voice repeated over and over. On another call? At this hour, he should be home playing video games. I called Sharon. "Hello, the number you have dialed is currently switched off." The unease instantly magnified, like ink dropped into clear water, rapidly staining my entire heart black. I leaned against the cold security door, my fingers trembling through my contacts. Finally, I found the locksmith's number. Half an hour later, a middle-aged man in blue overalls appeared before me. "The lock's been changed," the master said after examining the lock cylinder, his tone certain. "You must've pissed someone off. Whoever did this was pretty ruthless." My heart sank sharply. Amid the piercing sound of the electric drill, the door I'd walked through every day finally cracked open. I handed over three hundred dollars, forgot to even say thank you, and impatiently pushed the door open. Empty. Everything was empty. No familiar sofa, no TV cabinet we'd picked out together, no dining table I'd wiped clean every day. Only a few lonely cardboard boxes sat in the center of the living room, filled with worthless odds and ends. Sunlight streamed through the curtainless windows, casting large swaths of dust particles on the floor. This didn't look like a home---it looked like an abandoned warehouse. I rushed into the bedroom. Empty. Our king-size bed had vanished, along with the jewelry box I'd kept in the nightstand. The closet stood wide open, containing only a few old clothes I'd changed out of before my trip, thrown carelessly in the corner like rags. I frantically dialed Ethan's number, again and again. Always that same message: "currently on another call." I'd been blocked. This realization poured over me like a bucket of ice water from head to toe. I tried calling Sharon again. Switched off. No. Impossible. They couldn't have just left like this. There must be some misunderstanding. I collapsed onto the cold floor, my body trembling uncontrollably. Just then, Mrs. Walker from across the hall opened her door and poked her head out. "Oh my, Emily's back?" Her face wore a complex expression mixing sympathy and gossip. "You're finally home! Your husband and his mom moved out a week ago." "Moved out?" My voice was as dry as sandpaper. "Yeah, they were all cheerful about it. Said your husband made it big somewhere and was taking his mom to live the good life in another city!" Mrs. Walker's voice continued. "I asked why you weren't with them, and he said you were busy with work, that he'd go ahead and get everything set up, then come back for you later. You're so lucky, Emily, finding such a successful husband." Live the good life. Made it big. Each word was like a knife, stabbing viciously into my chest. I finally understood. This wasn't a misunderstanding. This was a premeditated abandonment. I'd given everything to this family. To save money for the mortgage, I hadn't bought myself a single new piece of clothing in three years. To care for his demanding mother, I'd learned to cook her favorite dishes. I'd handled all the housework, getting up early and staying up late, serving him and Sharon like they were royalty. I thought my devotion would earn their genuine care. Turns out, in their eyes, I was just trash they could discard at any moment. All my social media accounts, every way to contact them---deleted completely. I was like someone who'd appeared out of thin air and disappeared the same way. They'd erased every trace of my existence. The sky gradually darkened. Cold darkness swallowed the entire room, and swallowed me too. "Knock, knock, knock." A knocking sound. I numbly lifted my head to see two people in security uniforms standing at the door. "Excuse me, we received a complaint from the property owner about a suspicious person staying here for an extended period." One of the young security guards looked at me warily. "This is my home," I spoke, my voice hoarse beyond recognition. "Your home? This house was sold a week ago. The new owner asked us to watch the property and not let anyone in." The older security guard sized me up, his eyes full of suspicion. "Please leave immediately." They "escorted" me out of the place I'd once called home, one on each side. The wheels of my suitcase rolled across the concrete, making hollow, grating sounds. I stood at the entrance to the residential complex, watching the coming and going of vehicles and pedestrians, feeling humiliated and wretched for the first time. I'd become a joke. A homeless joke.
The city's neon lights stung my eyes. I dragged my suitcase, wandering the streets like a ghost. My phone battery was down to five percent. I didn't dare tell my parents. They were both honest, hardworking people who'd scrimped and saved their whole lives. I didn't want them worrying about me. I walked into a 24-hour fast food restaurant and found a seat in the farthest corner. The place reeked of fried chicken and burgers, greasy enough to turn my stomach. I laid my head on the cold table, looking at the high-rises outside the window. Every window glowed with warm light. Behind those lights were complete families. And I had been abandoned by mine. Tears fell without warning, drop by drop hitting the tabletop, spreading into small wet spots. I bit my lip hard, not letting myself cry out loud. My phone vibrated once in my pocket, its faint glow a final struggle. It was my dad calling. I took a deep breath, using every ounce of strength to suppress the sob in my throat, and pressed answer. "Hello, Dad." "Sweetheart!" On the other end, my dad's voice was unusually excited and trembling. "I've got amazing news! Incredible news!" I listened numbly. What good news could compare to the catastrophe I was experiencing? "The lottery ticket your mom and I bought---we won! We hit the jackpot!" My brain went completely blank, like someone had hit me hard with a sledgehammer. "How... how much?" "Three hundred million!" My dad's voice cracked with excitement. "That's right, $300 million! Sweetheart!" I gripped the phone, feeling like I was dreaming. Auditory hallucination. I must be so desperate I was hearing things. "Dad, don't joke around." "Who's joking with you! It's already on the news---we're the anonymous lottery winners from our city! The money's already in our account! I just transferred a million to you. Use it for now! Sweetheart, come home right away! Our family needs to celebrate properly! Dad's going to buy you a mansion and a sports car! From now on, no one will ever bully you again!" No one will ever bully you again. Those words were like a key, instantly opening the floodgates of my emotions. I hung up and opened my mobile banking app. A new transfer record appeared prominently on the screen. Amount received: One million dollars. That long string of zeros glowed with blinding light in the dim fast food restaurant. Tears surged out again, blurring my vision. But this time, it wasn't because of despair and humiliation. I wiped away my tears, stood up, and dragged my suitcase out of the fast food restaurant. Across the street stood a magnificent five-star hotel. I walked in. "Hello, I'd like to book a presidential suite." The receptionist's professional smile froze for a moment, then returned to normal. I swiped my card, took the room key, and walked into the elevator. The room was on the top floor. Beyond the huge floor-to-ceiling windows lay the glittering night view of the entire city. I stood before the window, looking down at the endless stream of traffic below. They flowed like golden rivers, rushing ceaselessly. Ethan. Sharon. You abandoned me for a few hundred thousand dollars. You thought you'd kicked me into hell. Little did you know, you'd personally delivered me to heaven. I suddenly laughed. In this brilliant night scene, my laughter sounded especially clear. The laughter carried tears, carried hate, and even more, an unprecedented resolve. The flames of revenge burned fiercely in my chest. The game was only just beginning.
I slept in the soft bed until I woke naturally. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, filling the entire room with warmth and brightness. I ordered the hotel's most expensive room service. Exquisite silver tableware, fresh ingredients---everything proclaimed the taste of money. After breakfast, I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror---haggard, with dull eyes. This face was written all over with pleasing others and humility. It was time to say goodbye to the old Emily. I took a taxi to the city's most upscale luxury shopping mall. This was a paradise for the rich, and a place where I'd once needed courage just to step inside. I walked into a top luxury brand store. "Welcome." The sales associate wore a standard smile, but when her eyes swept over my faded T-shirt, a flash of contempt crossed them. I ignored her. I walked straight to a row of new season items, pointing at a sleek black dress. "This one, and this one, and this one---wrap up everything I point to." My voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough. The sales associate froze, seemingly not processing this. "Miss, are you... sure?" Her tone carried doubt. I pulled a black card from my wallet and gently placed it on the glass counter. "Do I look like I'm joking?" When the sales associate saw that unlimited black card, her expression changed instantly. The contempt and doubt vanished without a trace, replaced by extreme deference and flattery. "Yes, yes, please wait a moment. I'll wrap these up right away!" Her waist bent almost ninety degrees. Over the next few hours, I became the queen of the entire mall. Without batting an eye, I bought all the designer clothes, bags, and jewelry I'd once been reluctant to buy or even look at. The sales associates who'd once treated me with indifference now followed behind me, competing to introduce products, their faces full of ingratiating smiles. For the first time, I clearly felt the power that money brings. It could make proud heads bow, could make hypocritical faces seem sincere. After my shopping spree, I went to the city's top styling salon. "Cut it off," I told the style director, pointing at my long hair I'd kept for years. In the crisp sound of scissors, all that past docility and humility, along with those split ends, were cut away and scattered on the floor. An hour later, a brand new me appeared in the mirror. Sharp, stylish shoulder-length hair, exquisite yet cool makeup, eyes that no longer held any trace of timidity---only calm and detachment. Strange, yet familiar. This was the real me. Leaving the salon, I went straight to the Porsche dealership. "I want that red 911. Full payment." The sales manager almost thought he'd misheard, but after confirming my bank account balance, he immediately processed everything with the most enthusiastic service. Driving the brand new red sports car, I returned to my parents' home. They'd already moved to a high-end gated community in the suburbs. When I appeared before them in the car, my mom's tears immediately flowed. She rushed over and hugged me tightly, her palm repeatedly stroking my short hair. "My poor daughter, from now on Mom will never let you suffer again." My dad stood to the side, his eyes red, repeatedly saying, "It's good you're back, it's good you're back." Seeing their heartbroken yet relieved expressions, the emotions I'd been holding in all day finally threatened to break through. In front of family, I could always let down all my defenses. That evening, our family seriously discussed the future. We established a family trust fund, with me in full management. My parents knew nothing about business. They just wanted to live peacefully. And I had to use this money to build an impregnable fortress for our family. Never again would anyone have the chance to hurt us. Outside, the night was deep. Inside the villa, lights blazed. A new era for Emily was beginning.
To handle some old documents and certificates, I drove that flashy red Porsche back to the city center. I parked the car in front of a coffee shop I used to frequent. I was about to get out when the corner of my eye caught a familiar figure. Sharon. She sat by the window in the coffee shop, across from a bejeweled rich lady. Even through the glass, I could see her smug, animated expression. "Oh, you have no idea---my Ethan is so successful now!" Her voice was shrill, piercing through the glass and faintly reaching my ears. "He sold that tiny apartment and brought me to the big city to enjoy life! He says he's going to buy me a big mansion! There was even some rich girl chasing after him recently, driving a BMW, from a family that owns a company!" The rich lady elegantly sipped her coffee, but her eyes held disdain. "Is that so? Well, congratulations then." Her tone was perfunctory at best. I watched Sharon's face flush red from bragging, the corner of my mouth curling into a cold smile. I pushed open the car door, put on my sunglasses, and stepped out. The red sports car, combined with my haute couture outfit, instantly attracted everyone's attention. I could feel almost every gaze in the coffee shop focusing on me. Including, of course, Sharon's. I walked into the coffee shop in my high heels, heading straight inside. Sharon's gaze was like poisoned nails, pinning onto me. Those eyes were full of jealousy and contempt, as if looking at a gold-digging vixen. She hadn't recognized me yet. Makes sense---in her mind, her daughter-in-law Emily was always disheveled, always in cheap T-shirts and jeans. How could she possibly be this woman with a commanding presence? I walked to the counter, my voice just loud enough for everyone in the coffee shop to hear. "One cup of Kopi Luwak, please." As I ordered, I deliberately raised my wrist and adjusted my cuff. The diamond-encrusted watch worth a million dollars refracted dazzling light under the lamps. I heard a faint gasp from behind me. I turned around with my coffee, ready to find a seat. My gaze swept across Sharon's face, seemingly by accident. In that moment, her pupils contracted sharply. The smugness and boasting on her face instantly froze, replaced by extreme shock and disbelief. She'd recognized me. Her mouth dropped open, jaw nearly hitting the floor, and the coffee cup in her hand trembled, spilling brown liquid all over her knockoff designer outfit. Everyone around her cast strange looks her way. The rich lady frowned and quietly shifted away from her. And I just gave her a light glance. Like looking at a complete stranger. My eyes held no hate, no resentment, not even a ripple. Just pure indifference. In her shocked, dazed, humiliated gaze, I elegantly turned and walked out of the coffee shop. Getting into the sports car, I saw through the rearview mirror her stumbling out of the coffee shop, staring blankly at the direction my car disappeared. I knew that from today on, her peaceful "good days" were over. A good show was about to begin.
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