Chapter 3

What could I do if I rushed in now? Demand answers? Cry and lament?

I bit my lip hard until I tasted blood.

I quietly crept around to the back of the villa, where the staff quarters were. A window there was always left open; it was my secret passage for sneaking out to play when I was a child.

I climbed in and hid in the secret compartment of the wardrobe in the second-floor study.

The view here was the best, and I could hear everything happening in the living room.

In the living room, a huge projector screen descended.

"Alright, alright, today's episode of our 'Tough Love' reality show is starting."

Dad excitedly rubbed his hands, beckoning Mom and Chloe.

The screen lit up.

The scene showed a day of heavy rain.

I was riding that rickety old scooter I'd salvaged from a dump, delivering takeout.

The rain was too heavy, and the road collapsed. I, along with my scooter, tumbled into a mud pit.

The takeout food spilled everywhere.

I ignored the bleeding cut on my leg, knelt in the muddy water, picking up each container, crying as I wiped them clean.

Because if that order got a complaint, I would have to pay twenty dollars.

Twenty dollars, enough to feed our family ramen for three days.

"Oh my gosh, Olivia is so clumsy."

Chloe's gasp echoed from the living room.

She pointed at the disheveled, mud-covered figure on the screen, frowning.

"Dad, I don't think Olivia is suited for hardship?"

"Crying like that for twenty bucks, she has no foresight."

Dad, however, looked serious.

"Chloe, don't talk nonsense if you don't understand."

He pointed at me on the screen, using his cigar.

"That look in her eyes is exactly right."

"People can only unleash their potential when they're pushed to the brink."

"She used to spend ten dollars on books without batting an eye; now she's kneeling for twenty dollars."

"What does this show? It shows her vanity has been crushed; she's starting to understand the value of money."

"That's exactly the effect we're looking for."

Mom, Eleanor, walked over, holding a goblet of expensive champagne, taking an elegant sip.

"We started from scratch, we know that building an empire is easy, but holding onto it is the real challenge."

"Olivia was too pampered before, too soft-hearted. If we don't let her experience the hardships we went through, how will she take over the business in the future?"

"Look how capable she's been these past six months? Working three jobs a day, and she doesn't complain about being tired."

"She's a true heir of the Blackwood legacy."

Mom said, not noticing the resentment in Chloe's eyes.

The screen shifted, cutting to a different scene.

It was me, standing outside a 24-hour convenience store, staring at the pastries inside, hesitating for nearly ten minutes. Finally, I turned and left, thinking two dollars each was too expensive. In the scene, I was forlornly nibbling on half a dry piece of bread I'd found.

I rubbed my stomach, which was cramping from hunger, and reached for the beef they'd left on the table.

As I ate, tears streamed down my face.

Then, the scene shifted again.

It was me washing dishes at a greasy diner.

My old rival, with a group of rich kids, came to humiliate me.

She splashed boiling hot oil from the fryer on my hand and threw two hundred dollars on the floor, telling me to pick it up.

On the screen, I endured the searing pain, bent down, and picked up the two hundred dollars.

Because back then, Dad was pretending to be sick in bed, saying his heart was hurting him to death.

Seeing this, Dad nodded in satisfaction.

"Excellent! She knows when to bend and when to stand tall!"

"This is what it means to truly swallow your pride!"

"She wasn't picking up money; she was picking up her lost dignity. A qualified heir must learn to shed her pride."

Chloe pouted, a hint of jealousy in her voice:

"Dad, how much longer are you going to test her?"

"What if she finds out the truth and hates us?"

"Hate?"

Dad sneered.

"She's my blood, I'm her father."

"I'm doing this for her own good. This is the highest form of elite education."

"When she stands at the pinnacle of wealth in the future, she'll kneel down and thank me."

My fingernails dug deeply into my flesh.

So that's how it was.

My past six months of hellish living, in their eyes, was a meticulously planned reality show.

They watched me bleed, watched me kneel, watched me beg for food like a dog.

Not only did they feel no pity, but they were here, toasting and celebrating it.