My Life Traded for a Few Cents

"Ms. Fletcher, kindly explain how you would control the costs and expenses at the company if it were facing extreme financial pressure?"

I felt as though this question was tailor-made for me.

After all, I'd worked at a shady sweat shop factory for six months in my past life, and I'd witnessed the harshest exploitation and the most inhuman way of cost-cutting ever.

I spoke fluently and confidently as I transformed the exploitation methods I had witnessed at the factory into a compliant actuarial and business model instead.

The executives nodded repeatedly, seemingly satisfied with my answer.

The assessment was nearing its end. However, the fluorescent lights above me suddenly flickered before completely going off. Then, my laptop warned me that it was extremely low on battery and would turn off soon.

As it turned out, Dad actually went into the hallway and smashed the electricity meter. He was so insistent on making me comply and submit to him that he didn't even care about his own dignity anymore.

I looked at the remaining 1% battery on the laptop and hurriedly submitted my assessment with a click of the button. As soon as the page refreshed to show a successful submission, the laptop screen went dark and shut down completely.

I then took off my headphones and opened my room door.

Dad was standing right there, immediately landing a hard slap on my face. He hit me so hard that my head was slapped to the side, and the corner of my lips began bleeding.

"Get dressed and come with me to report to Leroy's factory tomorrow! The pay is 1,000 dollars a month, food and lodging are provided, and the money will be sent directly to my account."

Mom then shoved Andrea's hospital bill against my nose and said, "Don't you know that Andrea's hospital stay costs 2,000 dollars a day? I don't care how you do it. Sell your blood, or your plasma, or whatever, but you'd better spit out enough money to cover her costs no matter what!

"You're her younger sister. It's your job and your duty to provide for her! You owe her everything!"

I wiped off the blood from the corner of my lips and stared at the two people before me, claiming to be my parents.

"Fine. I'll go if it means Andrea will get treated."

Mom and Dad were stunned. They didn't think that I would agree to it so quickly or easily.

Mom immediately smiled and praised me for it. "That's my good girl."

That night, a black Audi rolled to a stop below our apartment, and Andrea's husband, Kirk Herrera, who'd always been the materialistic type, kicked her out and left her at the door with a dark, displeased look on his face.

"Her treatment is a bottomless pit. I can't live like this anymore. I'm divorcing her."

Then, Kirk floored the gas and left, just like that, while Andrea leaned against the walls in the hallway and cried her heart out.

Mom felt incredibly sorry for her and hurriedly helped her into the apartment, calling Leroy immediately.

Leroy Sutton was a shady labor broker. He specialized in sending the most desperate people to the most dangerous factories in the country.

Early the next morning, I'd just returned home from repairing my phone when I suddenly caught sight of three big, burly, foul-smelling brokers in the living room.

Leroy had a cigarette in his mouth as he gave me a scrutinizing look.

"Her? She's so skinny. Can she even handle the high heat in the factories?"

Mom immediately plastered a wide, fawning smile on her face and said, "Of course she can! She's been a very resourceful and hard worker all her life. She's very resilient!"

The fear from my past life washed over me like a tidal wave just then.

The so-called "high heat" in the factories had an operating temperature exceeding 160 degrees, with toxic chemical fumes constantly hanging in the air.

I didn't want to spend five dollars a day on a dust mask, and I worked overtime at the factory without eating or drinking. Yet, three months down the line, I collapsed at the assembly line while coughing up blood from my lungs.

The factory didn't want to take responsibility and abandoned me at the hospital. Mom rushed to the hospital afterward, but she didn't pay the medical bills. In fact, she chided me for delaying their monthly payment.

"You stupid, worthless, good-for-nothing piece of trash! You should have just died in the factory so we'd still be able to collect some compensation from them!"

Every single word she said cut straight into my heart.

And now, she was shoving the exact same contract agreement in my face again in this life.

"Hurry up and sign the contract! Leroy will be paying an advance of 10,000 dollars for you. That's just about enough for Andrea's dialysis!"

Austin excitedly rubbed his hands together next to me and said, "Mom! Set aside 1,600 dollars for me! I want to get the latest iPhone!"

Dad just sat on the couch, smoking his cigarette calmly without even sparing me a glance.

"We've raised you for decades. This is a debt you have to pay because you owe us this much."