My mother gave all four of our family's houses to my younger brother, and gave her "love" to me. So, after I started working, I gifted her a $5 necklace, but spent $2,500 on my cat. She called me a heartless, ungrateful daughter. I pointed at the four property deeds and smiled innocently: "Mom, my money might have gone to the cat, but I gave you all my love!" 1 When we were little, if my parents bought a cake, my brother and I each got a slice. If they bought toys, we each got one. They never seemed to play favorites. I always felt incredibly lucky to grow up in a fair household where my parents treated my brother and me equally. But then, my parents bought a new investment property and put it entirely in my brother Mason's name. He was only in middle school at the time. My mom sat me down and explained: "Harper, society is different for boys. A girl doesn't necessarily need a house to her name, but a boy needs property to be seen as a good provider and find a wife. "Money is a little tight right now, but if we ever have enough to buy another house, we'll get one for you too." I was depressed for days, but eventually, I convinced myself to accept it. It wasn't that they didn't love me; they just didn't have the money. When I went to college, my mom cried to me about how tight their finances were. So, I worked multiple part-time jobs, hustled for academic scholarships, and paid for my own tuition and living expenses to ease their burden. Yet, during those exact same four years, they bought a second and a third investment property—both entirely in Mason's name. My mom's excuse evolved: "Society expects so much from men nowadays. The pressure is huge. Having a few extra properties gives him a safety net. As a girl, your life will be much easier." That was when a phrase I constantly saw online finally clicked in my head: The Golden Child. Before this, I had never associated that term with my own family. I threw her past promises back in her face, trying to prove her hypocrisy: "You explicitly promised that when we had the money, you'd buy one for me. Now Mason has three properties. If you favor him, just admit it!" My mom exploded. "When have we ever mistreated you?! Growing up, did you ever have less food or clothes than your brother? You're a girl—you always wanted dresses and hair clips! We spent more money on you than him on a daily basis! "If we really favored him, would we have paid for you to finish college? Do you know how many girls out there don't even get to go to a university? What other parents balance the scales as well as we do?!" Mason immediately chimed in to fan the flames: "Harper, stop upsetting Mom. It's their money; they can give it to whoever they want. You should know how to be grateful. They raised us, and instead of being a good daughter, you're already scheming for their assets." With the two of them tag-teaming me from the moral high ground, I was so suffocated I didn't know how to respond. We had a massive argument that ended in a stalemate. I looked down at the pure 14k gold necklace in my purse. I had bought it with my very first paycheck after graduation. I had watched my mom stare at it longingly at the jewelry counter months ago, unable to bring herself to buy it. I had planned to surprise her with it today. Now, looking at the situation, there was no need. I stormed out of the house, drove straight back to the mall, and returned the necklace for a full refund. With the $2,500 cash in hand, I walked into a reputable breeder's shop and bought a purebred Ragdoll kitten. 2 I bought my new kitten premium food, the best litter, and top-tier accessories. When I wasn't at work, my entire routine revolved around cooking for him and playing with him. I took him to the vet for regular grooming and health checkups. My mom watched me and shook her head in disgust. "You brought a little god into the house to worship. Do you know how much money you're wasting?!" I held my fluffy, gorgeous baby, raised an eyebrow, and said proudly: "This is my son. Of course I'm going to spoil him." One day, my mom went out and told me to make lunch for my brother. I told her I was busy. When she came home, Mason was eating microwaved ramen. I, on the other hand, was meticulously preparing gourmet salmon meatballs for my cat. "You call this being busy?!" she shrieked. I kept my head down, carefully dicing the fish. "Everyone loves their own son. If I took care of your son, what if my son went hungry?" She glared at me, her face turning purple, completely speechless. She seemed to forget that Mason is only exactly one year younger than me. He's a full-grown adult. Why couldn't he cook his own food? According to my mom, "boys are clumsy" and don't know how to do chores, so I had to serve him. Based on what logic? 3 For my mom's birthday, Mason ordered a pair of $15 free-shipping sneakers off a discount website for her. She was overjoyed, boasting about how her son had finally grown up and knew how to take care of his mother. However, when she tried them on, they were a full two sizes too big. She laughed awkwardly. "Boys are just careless, it's normal that he doesn't get the sizing right. That's why they say daughters are a mother's true comfort." As she spoke, she glanced at me, gesturing toward my gift. I smiled sweetly and pulled a fake designer necklace out of a beautifully wrapped box. It looked identical to the luxury brand she loved. Except the material was cheap stainless steel. Her face darkened immediately. "You're giving me this?" I put on a mask of pure sincerity. "Yeah! I got it off an Amazon drop-shipper. It cost me exactly $5, which means it's worth roughly the same as Mason's shoes! "Mom, I've been thinking about what you said. You said when we were kids, you treated us exactly equally with snacks and toys. So now, the gifts I give you should be exactly equal to what Mason gives you. "Plus, daughters really are more thoughtful. The chain length is adjustable, so there are no sizing issues!" I was grinning from ear to ear, sounding perfectly obedient and innocent. She turned green with rage but couldn't openly lash out without looking like a hypocrite. "You have a full-time corporate job! How can you compare yourself to your brother? He's still a student!" She suppressed her fury. "Tell me the truth, how much are you making right now?" I answered honestly: "About $6,000 a month. But I spend almost all of it on my cat. "Mom, I finally understand how hard you had it. Raising a son is so expensive. Last week he wasn't feeling well, so I took him to the vet for a CT scan and some meds. Over two thousand dollars, gone in the blink of an eye." I patted my cat's fluffy tail, playing the part of a sweet, exhausted new mother complaining about her expensive child. "WHAT?!" She jumped off the sofa, her eyes practically bleeding. "Our family is struggling financially, and you're throwing thousands of dollars away on an animal?! Do you have any idea that your father and I still have a massive mortgage to pay off?!" I was genuinely confused. "Weren't all three of Mason's properties bought in cash? Why do you have a massive mortgage?" The moment the words left my mouth, it clicked. They had bought a fourth house. Realizing she had slipped up, she clamped her mouth shut, looking guilty. After a tense silence, she sat back down and tried to spin it: "We were originally planning to put this house in your name. But we thought about it... what if you get married and move away? The house would go to your husband's family. "So we figured, since you have a great salary now, you could help us pay off the mortgage on this house first. Then, when you're ready to get married, we'll buy a new one just for you." Wow. What a massive, beautifully painted pie. They wanted me to pay off a multi-million-dollar mortgage for a house in my brother's name, while promising me some imaginary house in the distant future. If that was the case, why wouldn't I just save my own money and buy my own house? Young people have it rough these days. Bosses manipulate you at work, the media manipulates you online, and when you go home, your own parents try to scam you. Unfortunately for her, trust can only be overdrafted so many times. "So whose name is on the deed for this new house?" I sneered, glancing at Mason, who was glued to his video game. "Let me guess. Your son's?" She exploded again. "Why do you keep saying 'my son'?! He's your own flesh and blood brother! We had him so you wouldn't be alone in this world, so you'd have family to rely on! When we get old, he'll be your only blood relative left! If he does well, you'll have backing when you get married! You are siblings, you should support each other! Why are you drawing lines between yours and his? "If you help pay the mortgage, we'll even leave a guest room for you when we renovate! I know Mason wouldn't kick you out if you ever wanted to visit!" I held my cat and lazily stifled a yawn. "So I should spend my entire salary for the next five years just to 'reserve a guest room' I might sleep in two days a year? I could stay at a five-star Ritz-Carlton for a fraction of that price. Your house is too expensive for me." Before she could speak, I continued with a bright smile: "Mom, I actually think what you said before makes perfect sense. I'm a girl, I don't need to worry about owning property. So I'll just use my salary to raise my own son." "Son, son! Are you seriously calling that animal your son?! Giving your own mother a fake necklace for her birthday but spending thousands on a beast every month—do you have any conscience left?!" She had completely lost it, her voice shrill and piercing. Right. I couldn't bear to spend thousands on a necklace for her, but I gladly spent it on my cat. When things are unfair, the resentment builds. You're finally tasting what blatant favoritism feels like. I didn't get angry. I just looked at her innocently. "You love your son, so you gave him four houses. I love my son, so I spend my paycheck on him. Where's the issue? "Mom, don't be mad. My money might have gone to the cat, but I gave you all my love!" She roared at the top of her lungs: "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!" At midnight, I was officially kicked out. 4 I turned right around, checked into the Ritz-Carlton, and spent $500 on a room. The receptionist was incredibly sweet and accommodating, helping me settle my cat in and even sending up a complimentary late-night snack. I took a luxurious bubble bath, eating fresh fruit and sipping champagne. Money really is best spent where it's appreciated. The next day was a Saturday. I drove around the neighborhood near my office and signed a lease for a beautiful, fully-furnished one-bedroom apartment with a large balcony. Rent was only $1,500 a month. The landlord was thrilled to have me, practically treating me like royalty and even hiring a cleaning service before I moved in. If I had stayed at home and given that $1,500 to my mom for the mortgage, she would have only complained that it wasn't enough. It’s true what they say. In some places, money buys you great service and emotional peace. In other places, pouring your entire bank account out only buys you endless demands and misery. From that day on, I lived in my own peaceful little two-person world with my cat. Money, peace, and freedom—it was glorious. Half a month later, I got a call. My mom was in the hospital. She had worn the oversized discount shoes Mason bought her to her Zumba class, tripped, and fractured her ankle. She needed surgery and pins, requiring at least two weeks of full-time care. Dad was out of state dealing with a failing business venture and couldn't come back. Mom was too cheap to hire a private nurse, so she wanted me to go take care of her. But I was currently managing a massive project at work, doing overtime every day. There was absolutely no way I could take fifteen days off. Meanwhile, Mason was on summer break, playing Call of Duty day and night with absolutely nothing to do. When I pointed this out, my mom scoffed: "Mason already made plans to go on a road trip with his frat brothers, he doesn't have time. Besides, boys don't know how to take care of people! Daughters are naturally more attentive and caring." I actually laughed out loud. "Is anyone born knowing how to take care of people? I haven't even passed my probationary period at work yet. If I ask for 15 days off, my career is over." Her voice went shrill. "What kind of excuse is that?! Your own mother is in the hospital and you can't make time? Are you saying your job is more important than me? You work so hard but I haven't seen a single dime of your money! Why can't you ever understand your parents' struggles?!" After venting her rage, she seemed to remember she needed a favor, so her tone softened slightly. "Just talk to your boss. If you have a good relationship with them, they'll understand a family emergency. Don't you know how to navigate office politics?" Right. I shouldn't try to use logic with her. I let out a shaky, miserable sigh, forcing a tone of absolute guilt: "Mom, it's not that I don't want to come take care of you. I wish I could fly to your bedside right now! But your precious grandson is sick too. He has feline infectious peritonitis. I can't leave him! As a fellow mother, the love I have for my son is the exact same as the love you have for Mason. I know you, of all people, will understand." Before she could explode, I hung up the phone. In the few seconds after the screen went black, I felt the blood in my veins run cold. So this is what it feels like to be completely detached. A moment ago, I had a million logical reasons I wanted to argue, but by the time I opened my mouth, I realized there was no point. I had been at my job for two months. Asking for a half-month leave during a critical project meant my boss would gladly grant me a permanent vacation. She knew my exact situation, but she hadn't considered my survival for even a second. Explaining myself was useless. It wasn't that she didn't know; she just purposefully chose to ignore it. 5 That night, Mason finally found the time to call me, stepping away from whatever loud party he was at. "Harper, you actually left Mom in the hospital all alone? You didn't even go visit her?! Do you have any conscience at all? You can always find another job, but you only have one mother!" Over the phone, beneath his roaring, I could hear the thumping bass, his friends howling lyrics, and the clinking of glasses. He was having a blast. I had just gotten off work and was grocery shopping. I answered the phone, treating it like a zoo exhibit: "Oh, so I assume you're doing the 24/7 hospital watch? Wow, you've been working so hard, Young Master Mason." He didn't feel a shred of guilt. "I'm out of town, I can't. Besides, isn't it your responsibility to take care of Mom? Are you really abandoning your parents just because of some houses? How were you raised? Did Mom and Dad not feed you? "Even if you're busy, couldn't you hire a nurse for her? You make so much money but you're too cheap to spend it on your own mother? Children shouldn't just leech off their parents, they should contribute! Mom and Dad have millions in mortgages and work so hard, while you're out living your best life. How can you be so selfish?!" He spewed an endless stream of self-righteous garbage. This familiar, preachy rhetoric... when did my little brother sign up for a crash course in patriarchal gaslighting? He sounded like a boomer lecturing a housewife. Since he wanted to play that game, I cleared my throat to lay out the facts. "As far as I know, your first three properties are all rented out. That's over $10,000 in rental income every month. And none of that money is going toward the mortgage—it's sitting in your personal bank account for your future wedding. Since you're so considerate of our parents' struggles, I'm sure you wouldn't mind sparing a few bucks for a nurse, right?" You see, they had the rental income to pay off the mortgage, but to protect their precious son's savings, my parents voluntarily took the debt entirely upon themselves. Parents demand daughters understand their suffering. But some suffering is entirely self-inflicted. Misery flows toward those who enjoy consuming it. If they love eating misery so much, they can have a feast. I wasn't having a bite. While I was talking, I pushed my cart into the bakery section. The sample lady handed me a piece of pistachio cake. I took a bite. Sweet and delicious. Mason choked on his words, getting even angrier. "You always have to compare yourself to me! I'm the son. Mom and Dad's retirement is going to rely entirely on me. Of course we're different. Once you get married, you'll belong to another family. Why would they give their assets to you? That would just be handing money to outsiders! "We never expected you to do much anyway. In the future, just send them a few thousand a month in allowance and come back to nurse them when they get sick. The actual responsibility of providing for their old age is my job!" He sounded so noble and rational. I actually almost laughed. The sheer, weaponized stupidity of that statement. I was so glad I didn't have him on speakerphone, otherwise the normal people in the grocery store would realize I was on the phone with a brain-dead moron. It would be too embarrassing. "Hey, are you listening to me? Harper..." I held the phone as far away from my ear as possible, like it was a biohazard. "The wind is too loud! I can't hear what kind of dog is barking at me!" 6 At 8:00 PM, my mom posted a photo of her in a hospital gown on Facebook with the caption: "Hospitalized alone. Watching the patient next to me surrounded by her loving daughter and family. Must be nice." Within half an hour, she had a dozen comments asking what happened. Sure enough, I was instantly bombarded by calls from relatives. My aunt charged the front lines, self-righteously seeking justice for her sister: "Harper, throwing a tantrum is one thing, but there's no such thing as a bad parent. How can you just abandon your mother? Regardless of what your brother does, you need to fulfill your duties as a daughter! "Parents have it hard. You'll understand when you're my age. Even if it's just for half a month, or even a few years, it's your duty to care for them. Don't tell me your job is too tiring. You work in an office staring at a computer, how exhausting can it be? You young people have it too easy, you just can't handle a little hardship." I nodded vigorously to the empty room, fake-sobbing in absolute agony. "Auntie, you have no idea! My heart is breaking for my mom, but I caught a severe virus, my fever is through the roof, and I literally can't get out of bed! Mason won't even let me come home, he said I'm 'spilled water' now that I'm an adult! Waaaah~ "Auntie, you're so right. That's my mom, your only sister! We absolutely cannot abandon her. So you'll go take care of her for the next two weeks, right? Cough, cough... I'd offer to pay you, but I know you'd never accept money, because you understand our family's financial struggles better than anyone... Hello? Hello? Auntie, why did you hang up?" Sigh. These people really can't handle a taste of their own medicine. I tossed my phone aside, thoroughly entertained, and laid down to play with my cat. Dealing with nosy relatives is simple: match their unhinged energy and flip the script. It's so easy for them to command others using empty words. But the second it requires their own time or money, they run faster than Olympic sprinters. 7 A month later, my probationary period at work ended. I was officially hired full-time. My salary was bumped by 20%, and I got a generous PTO package. During that entire month, I didn't go home, and I didn't visit the hospital. According to Facebook, my mom was discharged weeks ago and was living perfectly fine. My life wasn't affected in the slightest—if you ignore the fact that she was crying to the neighbors and relatives about what an unfilial monster I was. I guess my reputation as a cold-blooded, ruthless daughter was firmly established. But honestly? These people couldn't get me a promotion, and they couldn't bring me any valuable networking resources. Why should I kidnap my own sanity just for their validation? The most important thing in life is to be happy. I opened the curtains of my apartment. The sprawling city skyline and the rising moon filled my view. I seared a steak, popped open a bottle of champagne, and celebrated my promotion on my balcony. The ambient lights flickered. My cat squinted contentedly beside me, purring like a gentle engine. I raised my glass. A toast to myself, standing on my own. Life was good. ... The peaceful days rolled on. Half a year later, my dad called me and asked me to come home for the holidays. "It's almost Thanksgiving. Who doesn't go home for the holidays? Your mom was just angry back then. Come home." My mom chimed in from the background: "Harper, a mother and daughter can't hold a grudge forever! No matter how mad you are, you have to come home for Thanksgiving dinner." You don't slap a smiling face. Since they were extending an olive branch, I naturally played along. "Mom, Dad, I missed you guys so much! I'll bring your furry grandson over to see you right now!" At the dinner table, no one brought up the fact that they kicked me out, and no one mentioned my mysterious disappearance during my mom's hospitalization. My dad kept putting food on my plate. "Here, eat more lobster. It's your brother's favorite. If you don't eat it now, he'll devour the whole thing." Except, I'm allergic to lobster. In fact, looking at the massive feast on the table, not a single dish was something I actually liked. I was incredibly annoyed, but I maintained an elegant smile. "I knew Dad loved me the most." He was very satisfied with this picture of family harmony. With a little wine in his system, he started making grand speeches. "Don't worry, Harper. In a few years, when my business takes off, I'll buy you a luxury penthouse downtown. It'll be worth more than all four of your brother's houses combined! "A family needs to stick together. We need to twist ourselves into a single rope. That's how a family prospers." I nodded enthusiastically, looking deeply moved. "Yes, yes! Thank you, Dad! And don't you worry, in a few years when your daughter makes partner at the firm and becomes a millionaire, I'll buy you a private yacht and take you to Hawaii!" You want to blow hot air? I can blow hot air too. When it comes to painting imaginary pies, the student has surpassed the master. "Why wait for the future? You should be honoring your parents right now! You've been working for half a year, how much money have you saved?" Just as my dad and I were riding high on our delusions, my mom had to ruin the mood. "Ugh, how could my meager corporate salary ever compare to my brother's passive rental income? Right, Mr. Landlord? What are you getting Mom and Dad for the holidays?" I blinked innocently at Mason. My mom looked awkward, probably gearing up for another "boys are just careless" speech. My dad frowned. "Alright, that's enough. It's the holidays. We're the elders, we should be giving gifts to the kids." And so, on this grand Thanksgiving night, I received a crisp $100 bill from my dad. Hey, considering I spent $80 on a nice bottle of wine to bring over, I was definitely taking it! 8 During the winter holidays, Mason brought his girlfriend home. The family called me back for a get-together. My mom told me to buy her future daughter-in-law a piece of fine jewelry or a jar of La Mer skincare as a welcome gift. I threw my hands up. "I'm broke." So, my mom marched her into my old bedroom. "Whatever. Your sister has more than one designer bag. Just pick one you like." Since I moved out early, the bags left in my room were mostly mid-tier ones I bought right after college—Coach, Michael Kors—nothing crazy expensive. The girl's eyes darted around the room, eventually landing on me. Specifically, on the Louis Vuitton bag I was currently wearing. Mason immediately jumped out to back up his girlfriend. "It's just a bag, right? If Chloe likes it, give it to her. You came over for dinner empty-handed and we didn't say anything." Miss Chloe timidly tugged at his sleeve, her eyes slightly red. "It's okay, Mason. Maybe your sister just doesn't see me as family yet. I don't want to cause trouble." Uh... What kind of radioactive trash did Mason drag home? Truly, birds of a feather flock together. I smiled brightly, my eyes curving into crescents. "Sorry, honey! Some people have shame, some people don't. Begging for a Louis Vuitton on your first visit? I don't think your brand loyalty aligns with your personal values." With that, I turned on my heel and walked out. Almost getting robbed of a two-thousand-dollar bag just to eat a dry turkey dinner? I couldn't afford that. ... That night, I was scrolling through Reddit when I stumbled upon a post in a relationship advice sub. [Title: First time visiting my boyfriend's family, and his older sister didn't give me a gift. What should I do?] The post detailed how rude and ill-mannered this "older sister" was, even mentioning she was so horrible her parents had kicked her out of the house. The avatar of the user matched the WhatsApp profile picture of the girl who had added me earlier that day: Chloe. This girl had clearly forgotten to turn off the "Sync Contacts" feature, so the app recommended her post to me. Finding it highly entertaining, I scrolled through her post history. The post right before this one read: [Title: My boyfriend has three fully paid-off investment properties and one house with a mortgage. If we marry, will I get a share of them?] The top comments bluntly told her: [The mortgaged house means he just wants you to help him pay off his debt. The fully paid-off houses are pre-marital assets—you have zero legal claim to them. If he really loves you, make him legally transfer two of the houses into your name, or force him to sell them and buy a new one together after you're married.] I was speechless. This girl's ambition extended far beyond a simple Louis Vuitton bag. Scrolling even further back, I found: [Title: Should I marry an only child or a guy with an older sister? The only child makes $150k but only owns one house. The guy with a sister only makes $40k, but he has four houses in his name, and his sister makes a massive corporate salary. She'll definitely subsidize our lifestyle in the future. Which one should I pick?] I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She had literally factored my salary into her future net worth. You have to admire the audacity.
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