My Professor Father Failed Me and Gave My Stepsister a Perfect Score

To make sure I couldn't ride his coattails, my father gave me a zero on my graduate admissions interview.

The ninety-plus scores from the other professors couldn't outweigh his say.

In the end, first place on the written exam and I still got cut.

"Those professors know you're my daughter. Even if you weren't good enough, they'd give you high marks.

"It doesn't prove anything.

"Only if I pull your score down is it fair to the other applicants."

But Dad.

This is the fourth year in a row you've given me a zero.

Four straight years of ranking first on the written exam still isn't enough to prove I'm good enough?

I held back my tears and went back to the company.

Then Jemima Gilbert's post came up on my feed:

【Only cleared the written cutoff by 0.5 points, thought it was over, but thank god Professor Gilbert gave me a perfect interview score.

【Turns out the most beautiful thing on the road to grad school isn't the acceptance letter,

【it's the unwavering support of family!】

My phone slipped out of my hand.

And I finally understood.

My father's fairness was reserved for me alone.

A message came in from my subordinate asking about the university-industry partnership project.

I paused:

【Don't route it through Professor Gilbert anymore. He's my father.

【It wouldn't be fair to the other professors.】

……

I went to see my father one more time.

He was in his office. He saw me, and his expression didn't change.

"The results are already out, aren't they? What else do you want?"

"You gave Jemima a hundred?"

At that, he paused for a moment.

"Dad, weren't you the one who said it had to be fair?"

"The fairness I meant is that everyone knows you're my daughter, so they'd go easy on you. That's why I have to balance it out.

"Jemima isn't my biological daughter. She doesn't need that."

"But she calls you Dad too!"

My voice rose.

"That's enough!"

He sighed and handed me the interview score sheet.

"Jemima started preparing for these exams half a year ago.

"And all I had to do was lift a finger to put her total half a point over the admissions cutoff.

"Even a student I'd never met, if there was still a slot open, I wouldn't stand in their way.

"Let alone Jemima, an adopted daughter of mine."

The score sheet crumpled in my grip.

I looked at him, my eyes red.

"But Dad, there were open slots when I interviewed too. You still had two of them. I remember it clearly.

"I don't need you to give me high marks. The other professors all gave me over ninety.

"You could've given me a sixty, just a passing grade, and I still would've made the cutoff, and no one would've called you unfair!

"Dad, why didn't you lift a finger then?

"When my written score was a hundred and fifty points higher than Jemima's!"

He frowned.

"Do you really not know why you scored so well?

"The written exam has two versions, A and B.

"You drew A, Jemima drew B. Yours was simply easier than hers. A high score is nothing to brag about.

"Jemima, on the other hand, cleared the written cutoff on her first attempt. That alone shows her potential."

I stared at him.

"But on my first attempt, I cleared the written cutoff by a hundred and thirty-three points."

"That was a long time ago."

He shook his head.

"Jemima may have only cleared it by 0.5 points, but this is the age when academic passion burns brightest. Before I became her adoptive father, I am first and foremost a teacher who nurtures his students' growth."

For a moment I couldn't say a single word.

I opened my mouth.

My voice came out slightly hoarse.

"Then what about me?"