Chapter 4Behind The Bandages Of The Billionaires Forgotten Daughter

I stared at my mother on the screen, frozen.

She saw the blood on my body. She merely winced, a brief look of discomfort. She did not clutch her head, go pale, or fall over, as she always did in my memories when my skin tore.

She had been lying. All of it.

Had all those years of careful instruction, of patient love, the hot milk by the desk, the open arms when I looked wistfully at Eliza in my father's embrace, the consistent presence of my favorite food on a table full of Eliza's favorites—had all of it been a performance?

I had believed that even if Dad and Eliza left, Mom would never abandon me. Yet she left, and she had helped them perpetuate the lie until this very moment.

“She’s an EB patient! Stop tormenting her!”

Tears streamed down my mother’s face, her eyes filled with a sliver of guilt as she looked at me.

“If we didn’t have a billionaire’s wealth, our daughter could easily look like her! Why are you being so cruel?”

Then why did you abandon me, knowing full well this would happen?

My tears fell again, mixing with the blood, making my face look even more terrifying.

My mother quickly tried to soothe me:

“I apologize on behalf of my husband. Please don’t be sad. You can continue streaming your art—the platform won’t ban you. We’ll also cover all your medical expenses for this flare-up, as compensation. Will that be enough?”

The gentler her voice, the more nauseated I felt.

The pure hatred in my eyes infuriated my father and the comment section once more.

“Look at her face! I told you, this ungrateful wretch needs to be banned now!”

“This girl is completely unhinged. The Rileys don’t owe her a thing, and they keep trying to help, but she looks at them like they’re the enemy!”

“Mrs. Riley, ignore her! She’s just a psycho who was abandoned by her own family and is now jealous of your happy, generous family!”

“I pitied her before, but now I think her family leaving her was probably deserved!”

Eliza, startled by my expression, joined my father in trying to dissuade my mother:

“Mom, I know you feel guilty about… about the gene. But you’ve done everything you can. You don’t owe anyone anything. You have Dad and me. I’m the one who looks like you both. Let’s not worry about this unrelated person. We sacrificed so much during our ‘poverty phase.’ You need to let go of your guilt.”

The look of guilt faded from my mother’s face. She sighed.

“You’re right. I don’t owe anyone. And I have you, Eliza, who needs my care. There’s no need to concern myself with strangers. Since this young woman doesn’t accept my compensation, then I never offered it. Marcus, do whatever you need to do.”

The chat erupted in cheers, eager to see me de-platformed. My father picked up his phone to call the streaming service.

Eliza’s and my mother’s words echoed in my mind. The poverty game was a test, but only for me. In my own family’s heart, I was nothing but "an unrelated person."

My fingers brushed against an X-Acto knife lying on my desk. I numbly grasped it. A single voice screamed in my head: Stop fighting. No one wants you to live.

I pressed the blade against my wrist, ready to apply pressure, when the apartment door behind me flew open.

Kai Jensen rushed over, snatching the knife away, his voice thick with suppressed fury:

“Aubrey Riley! You promised me you would live! Why are you being so reckless!”

My full name echoed through the microphone. The three Rileys on the other side froze, turning to look intently at me.