Refused to Play Victim — She Pushed Me

My panic deepened.

Laura Parker held out a brand-new phone box.

“Emily, your old phone is too slow. Mommy got you a new one.”

I took the phone, my stomach tightening with dread.

“This one works much better. I’ve already installed all the apps for you.”

She gently stroked my head, her voice tender to the point of terror.

“Emily, Mommy just loves you too much. I’m afraid someone will trick you.”

I unlocked the phone—and sure enough, there it was.

Location trackers. Monitoring apps. Even my call logs would sync automatically.

“Mom, this…”

“This is for your protection.” Her warm smile was chilling. “I can’t be with you every second, so this is how I care for you.”

My phone rang. At the same time, hers rang too.

Synced…

“Here, sweet girl, put on these shoes. Mommy just bought them for you.”

Numb, I obeyed.

“Ah!”

I yanked them off immediately—inside the sole, a sharp needle was sticking upright.

And there was my mother, adjusting her camera angle to capture my pained expression.

“Perfect… today’s material is ready.”

When she discovered my library job, I thought the worst that could happen was being forced to quit.

I was wrong.

That afternoon, while I was shelving books in the back, a sudden commotion erupted outside.

“Where’s the manager? Come out right now!”

Laura’s voice.

The book nearly slipped from my hands. How did she find me here?

“You greedy employers! Preying on students like this? My daughter’s only nineteen—how can you exploit her like that?”

I rushed out from the back room and saw her standing in the middle of the store. Hair disheveled, eyes red and swollen—she looked every bit the image of a desperate mother driven to the edge.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” I stammered.

The moment she saw me, her tears burst forth like a broken dam.

“Emily! Mommy came to save you!”

“Look at my daughter—she’s skin and bones!” She yanked up my arm, showing it off to the customers. “She works herself to the bone every day and only earns this little. Isn’t this exploitation?”

The store manager, Mr. Johnson, stepped out of his office, his face dark.

“Ma’am, please calm down.”

“How can I calm down when my daughter’s being tortured like this?”

Laura jabbed her finger at him, her voice growing shrill.

“You brainwashed her, didn’t you? That’s why she won’t come home! That’s why she doesn’t recognize her own mother! I raised her all by myself, gave her everything—and now for a few measly dollars, she doesn’t want me anymore!”

Customers began whispering among themselves, some even pulling out phones to record.

I panicked.

“Mom, please, let me explain—”

She grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard.

“Look at yourself! Your face is pale. Did they force you to do heavy labor?”

Before I could respond, the store’s doors opened again and another group poured in—

cameramen with tripods, reporters with microphones, badges hanging from their necks.

I froze.

“Excuse me, are you Emily Parker’s mother?”

A female reporter thrust her microphone toward Laura.

“Yes, I am this poor child’s mother.”

Laura instantly shifted her expression. Tears welled up on cue.

“I raised her alone, pinching pennies to send her to Columbia University. But she won’t come home to me.”

“She’s been secretly working part-time jobs behind my back. Spending the money in all the wrong places. I only found out today—and my heart shattered.”

She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, her voice thick with grief.

“She’s always been such a sensible child… someone must have misled her. I’ve worked so hard, given her everything—even if I suffered, I never let her suffer. But she insists on going out to work, saying she wants to be independent.”