The Approval System

I had not asked my mother for money in three months.

She thought I had finally learned to be a good, obedient son and, in a rare act of mercy, sent me a message.

"I already had Calvin pay the registration fee. Learn to be more sensible from now on. Stop thinking about scamming money from the family.

"I know your dad is having a hard time right now, but since you chose to stay with me, you need to be on the same side as me."

When she said this, she did not yet know that I had already transferred my in-state residency out.

No one believed that I, Miles Hart, who appeared on the surface to be the young master of a wealthy family, had a closet filled entirely with clothes bought before my parents’ divorce. For three full years, there was not a single new piece of clothing.

Every dollar I spent privately had to be submitted through an internal approval system, with a written application and justification. Even fees for school activities required screenshots of official notices and formal quotations.

All expenses had to pass the review of my stepfather, Calvin Pierce.

Just because my mother constantly suspected I was siding with my father and was afraid I would secretly funnel money to him.

A month ago, I needed $500 for a math competition registration fee. Calvin rejected the request again and again.

"There isn't enough justification.

"Why do you have to participate in this competition?

"Wait until the end of the month for unified approval."

By the time approval finally came through, the registration window had already closed.

Mom did not know that I had endured these three years for only one reason: an in-state residency, which would make college admissions easier.

Now, I was officially recommended for admission to a top university.

This family was no longer a place I needed to stay in.

When I set the photocopy of my in-state residency transfer in front of my mom, she was absorbed in watching Calvin Pierce’s son, Noah Pierce, play video games.

I recognized the T-shirt Noah was wearing. I had seen it in a mall display window just last week. The price tag had four digits on it.

In contrast, the sweatshirt on my own body, which was washed so many times that it had faded, already had frayed cuffs.

"What does this mean?" Mom picked up the paper, her brows knitting into a tight knot.

I said calmly, "I transferred my in-state residency. I'll be living at school from now on."

The sound of the game stopped. Noah blinked those wide, innocent eyes of his.

"Bro, don't be angry," he said softly. "Mom is doing this for your own good."

Calvin walked over with a fruit platter and echoed him smoothly, "Miles, your mom doesn't earn money easily. Now that Noah is training in sports, our expenses are high. We're all family. We should be understanding of each other."

Such familiar rhetoric.

For three years, every time I wanted something, I heard this same version of "understanding".

"I'm not asking for permission," I said, looking at Mom. "I'm just informing you."

She reacted as if she had heard the biggest joke in the world. "Miles Hart, you've really grown wings, haven't you? Without me, you wouldn't even be able to pay your tuition!"

"I've already been recommended for admission. Tuition is fully waived. As for living expenses, I'll earn them myself."

"Recommended?" She froze for a moment, then turned to look at Calvin. "Is that true?"

Calvin's smile stiffened for a split second before quickly returning to normal.

"Oh, why didn't you say so earlier?" he said. "Look at the misunderstanding this caused... But even with a recommendation, it still costs money. The cost of living in Crownridge is so high..."

"I don't need your money." I cut him off. "For three years, every single dollar I spent in this house required an application and approval. Even buying a pen meant explaining its purpose.

"Noah, on the other hand, can freely use your supplementary card and treat his whole class to drinks."

Mom waved her hand impatiently. "Noah is younger and trains in sports. He needs nutritional supplements! You're already this old, and you're still being calculative about these things?"

"I'm not being calculative," I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "That's why I'm leaving."

She clearly did not take me seriously. As I turned around, she added coldly, "Fine. If you have the guts, don't come back begging me! Let's see how long you can stay tough!"