Chapter 2

It was four in the morning, and Northwood City's sanitation trucks hadn't arrived yet.

As usual, I carried a woven bag bigger than myself and skillfully slipped into the greenbelt outside The Summit Estates.

This was Northwood City's wealthiest neighborhood.

I felt a pang of guilt because my parents had repeatedly warned me not to come near here.

"The debt collectors are waiting around there for us; whatever you do, don't go near it."

But I often came secretly. After all, my face was so rough now that I barely recognized myself.

And the rich people here were too lazy to even break down cardboard boxes they'd only used once. For a scavenger like me, it was more cost-effective.

"Olivia, we're still short five hundred for this week's medicine. You need to find a way."

Last night, before I left, my mom grabbed my hand, her eyes swollen like golf balls from crying.

My dad, Robert, lay sprawled on the bed in our leaky basement, clutching his chest, looking like he could kick the bucket at any moment.

To save those five hundred bucks, I hadn't eaten dinner for three days straight. My stomach was churning with hunger.

I sped up my rummaging.

Suddenly, a flash of pink appeared, and my hand froze.

On top of a pile of freshly dumped kitchen waste, a pink teddy bear lay face down.

Its belly was torn open, revealing the stuffing, and one eye was missing. It looked utterly pathetic.

Just last night.

I had scraped every penny together from my living expenses, then spent two agonizing hours at the toy store entrance haggling with the owner, almost begging him, just to buy this defective bear for fifty dollars.

It was my adopted sister Chloe's eighteenth birthday gift.

Because I couldn't afford wrapping paper, I had clumsily embroidered a few words on the bear's paw:

"Chloe, Happy Birthday."

Now, that line of text was stained with coffee.

I frantically dug it out.

My hands began to tremble violently.

Just yesterday, when I presented this bear, my dad slapped me across the face and cursed, "Our family can't even put food on the table, and you're buying this garbage! Vain! A spendthrift!"

My mom, Eleanor, cradled "sick" Chloe and said with a pained expression, "Olivia, you've disappointed us so much. Your sister can't even afford her medicine, and you're wasting money."

I knelt on the ground, admitting my mistake, swearing I would gather the medicine money by tomorrow.

But still, this was a gift I had painstakingly saved up for my sister.

*Vroom—*

A black Maybach slowly drove out of the villa district, breaking my thoughts.

The car windows were tinted, but I recognized the license plate—it read 'ELITE8'.

Wasn't this the car of the mysterious billionaire who supposedly bought our foreclosed house?

The driver had a crew cut, and that profile… it was clearly Mike, our old family driver!

Dad had said that Mike had gone back to his hometown after we went bankrupt, hadn't he?

Driven by an inexplicable urge, I dropped my woven bag.

And followed the car.

I watched, mesmerized, as the car drove towards the villa we used to live in.

The villa was brightly lit; it looked nothing like a seized property.

I crouched behind the bushes and, through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, witnessed a scene I would never forget.

My dad, Robert, who was supposedly paralyzed and unable to walk in the basement, was now energetically cutting a cigar, full of vigor.

My mom, Eleanor, was wearing a face mask, directing the staff to carry boxes of luxury goods upstairs.

And Chloe, who supposedly had a terminal illness, held an Hermès bag, pouting in distaste:

"This color is so old-fashioned, Mom. Your taste is terrible."

Mom wasn't angry; instead, she chuckled and coaxed her:

"Alright, alright, we'll go change it tomorrow, as long as our Chloe is happy."

"Oh, right," Chloe suddenly remembered, "I accidentally lost the teddy bear Olivia gave me."

Dad blew out a smoke ring and sneered:

"Good riddance. Just seeing that thing irritates me."

"Only suffered for half a year, and already can't control her spending? Wasting money buying things? No sense of saving at all."

*Boom—*

My world completely shattered at that moment.

No bankruptcy.

No terminal illness.

No debt.

For the past six months, I had been working day and night, washing dishes, doing manual labor, collecting trash, selling my blood.

I lived in a moldy basement, eating their stale leftovers.

I thought I was saving this family.

Turns out, I was just a monkey for their after-dinner amusement.