The Price of Being Second Best Chapter 1

When my parents divorced, Mom fought for my older sister, and Dad fought for my younger brother.

I was the middle child, the one nobody wanted.

Everyone bet against me, but irony has a funny way of working out.

After the SATs, my sister ended up at a community college, my brother dropped out, and I? I was the state's top scholar.

Suddenly, it was my turn to be fought over.

I shook off their hands, pulling two documents from my bag.

"Kids who've been abandoned once have trust issues," I said coolly.

"So, here's the deal—"

"Whoever signs this will, leaving everything to me, gets to be the parent of the top scholar."

* * *

My dad is a cop, and my mom is a surgeon.

To everyone else, they have glamorous careers.

But to me, they were just permanently "busy."

Especially after the divorce.

Every time I asked Mom for allowance, she'd rush off, saying, "I'm saving lives, ask your dad."

When I called Dad, he'd sound exhausted, "I'm arresting bad guys, ask your mom."

They kept passing the buck, assuming the other had already paid up.

In reality, I was often starving.

When I was really broke, breakfast was two steamed buns—three yuan.

That was my food for the day.

When stomach cramps hit, I'd lay my head on the desk and tell myself to endure it.

Classmates went to the cafeteria for lunch; I said I wasn't hungry, but the truth was I had no money.

There were lucky days, of course.

Sometimes they'd both remember me and transfer money simultaneously.

But that "luck" was random.

Most of the time, I was hungry.

Once, after three days without a proper meal, seeing black spots from hunger, I called them. Both rejected my calls with the "busy" excuse.

That moment clarified everything.

In this world, money is more reliable than love.

Love disappears, gets ignored, gets forgotten.

Money doesn't.

From that day on, I wanted money. Lots of it.

Enough to buy the best food in the world.

So I'd never have to go hungry again.