Chapter 2

Elena had just reached the steps of her family's Brooklyn brownstone when she heard the sounds of laughter and joy emanating from within. She glanced up at the gloomy sky; the heavy, leaden clouds resembled an indifferent face looking down upon her solitary, desolate figure.

Ever since her parents brought Mia into the house after the great fire, Elena had felt like a superfluous ghost in her own home. Simply because her uncle had died saving her from a burning beam, Elena was told she owed her cousin a life and must always yield—starting with Barbie dolls and pretty dresses, then her parents' attention, and finally, even her fiancé.

Feeling like a wandering soul on the streets of Manhattan, she stood quietly before the oak door. The laughter inside stabbed into her heart like an ice pick, the chill seeping through the doormat beneath her feet, gathering into a shadow that sought to swallow her whole.

Elena pushed the door open. The laughter inside ceased instantly, as if her appearance had shattered the warm, Thanksgiving-like family atmosphere.

Her mother glanced at her and pointed to a folding chair in the corner. On the small coffee table in front of it sat a plate of cold spaghetti. There was only red tomato sauce on the plate, while the dining room's long table was laden with roasted ribs, lobster, and cream soup.

Since childhood, her parents claimed that Mia, having lost both parents, was physically and mentally fragile and needed the best nutrition and care. They gave the tenderest steaks to Mia and forced Elena to be sensible, to share, to atone. Now, Elena slept in a moldy basement storage room and ate discounted instant food from the supermarket.

But her parents never considered that Elena, who had also survived the trauma of the fire, needed care too.

Her mother stood up, deliberately placed a massive Boston lobster onto Elena's plate, and smiled. "This is your favorite seafood. Sit down and eat. Let's celebrate."

Elena kept her expression blank, her voice cold. "Mom, I am severely allergic to crustaceans. Eating that will send me into shock. Mia is the one who likes lobster."

This time, her mother didn't show her usual impatience, nor did she scold her for being picky. Instead, she looked into Elena's eyes with a rare, gentle expression. "Did you go to the firm to explain everything? Give that lead intern spot to your cousin. You are overflowing with talent; you can apply to other companies next year."

Elena remained silent, her fingers gripping the hem of her clothes tightly.

Her mother's face darkened, her tone turning severe as her silver fork tapped against the porcelain plate. "How can you refuse? You owe your cousin a life. Giving up an internship is no big deal. You should have some Christian spirit of sacrifice."

Even though she had experienced similar things countless times, the naked favoritism still stung Elena deeply.

Her father set down his wine glass, suddenly stood up, and slapped Elena hard across the face. His face was full of rage, as if he were facing an enemy rather than a daughter. "How did I raise such a cold-blooded ingrate? If you don't agree, get out of this house immediately. I don't have such a selfish daughter."

Elena's head buzzed, and a bright red handprint bloomed on her pale cheek. Facing her parents' wrath, she felt as if her body were being sliced by countless scalpels, trembling uncontrollably.

Mia wiped away fake tears, putting on the pitiful act of a victim. "Please, don't force Cousin. This makes me so sad. Maybe I'm just destined not to enter the top architectural circles. Don't blame her; it's my bitter fate, not having a father to love me."

Her parents immediately rushed over to hug Mia, swearing they would make Elena give up the spot and promising to buy Mia the Porsche she had been eyeing as compensation.

Only then did Mia stop crying. She looked at Elena's pale face and said, "Cousin, I never wanted to steal your things. If you mind, I can withdraw."

Her father flew into a rage, glaring at Elena. "Are you satisfied now? You've turned the house upside down. Apologize to your cousin immediately and confess your jealousy to God."

Elena wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, her gaze sweeping over the people in the room. These so-called family members were trying their hardest to destroy her dignity.

Just as her father was about to strike her again, her mother spoke up. "Gabriel called earlier to say Elena has already agreed to give up the spot. She's going to the firm tomorrow to withdraw her application."

Her father's expression softened slightly, though he huffed indignantly and resumed cutting his steak.

Her mother thought for a moment, then stared at her. "At least you have some conscience. Since your cousin is going to the internship, she needs a new wardrobe. You go find a part-time job to earn her clothing money. Remember, this is what you owe her."

Elena stared blankly at her mother. How could the woman who gave birth to her say such cruel things?

Her mother didn't seem to care about her reaction. Her tone was firm and unquestionable. "After the summer break, find work at a bar or restaurant. You're just wasting time at home anyway."

Her father nodded in agreement, taking a sip of red wine.

Then, the family began a lively discussion about how to throw a grand party for Mia to celebrate her upcoming entry into a top architectural firm—an achievement worth showing off in their social circle.

No one paid any more attention to Elena.

To them, her existence was like a kitchen trash can—brought up when needed, and unhesitatingly discarded in the corner when not.

Elena didn't know when she had lain down on her bed. Her heart, originally in pain, had gone numb. Staying in this loveless home made her feel suffocated.

The bed was a battered camp cot placed in the corner of the basement, damp and moldy, barely large enough for her body. Meanwhile, Mia possessed a spacious, bright, south-facing bedroom on the second floor, piled high with designer bags and perfumes from Fifth Avenue. Elena could only sleep in the dark, leaking basement, enduring ten years of cold and dampness.

Though the indoors were fully heated, her heart was as cold as frost.

Looking at the moonlight filtering through the single slit of a high window, Elena thought to herself—just one more month, and she could leave this hellish place.

Since this home didn't need her, she would vanish from their lives forever, heading to that distant Nordic polar land.