The Billionaire's Secret Daughter 18 Years of Lies

I, in the late stage of kidney failure, finally made up my mind to die.

Dr. Hayes couldn't bear it. "The hospital just found a matching kidney. Five hundred thousand dollars, and you'd be cured."

"Why not discuss it with your family one more time?"

I thought of my mom bedridden, my dad hauling cement at construction sites. I shook my head.

I don't want to die.

But if saving this broken body means bleeding my family dry—I'd rather go.

Maybe after I'm gone, their lives can be a little easier…

After I died, I discovered that my "dirt-poor" parents actually owned luxury cars, a villa, and hundreds of millions in savings.

Eighteen years of extreme poverty was nothing more than one phase of their "raise-her-poor" experiment.

Their plan was a stunning success.

Poverty made me sensible. Inferiority made me obedient.

I became the "perfect" child in my parents' eyes.

They were just waiting for next month—after the college entrance exam—to reveal everything and finally let me live as a billionaire's daughter.

But I died on the eve of dawn…

1.

On the eve of the college entrance exam, the school organized physicals.

The moment I saw my results, my world collapsed.

Both kidneys failed. Late-stage uremia.

With trembling hands, I searched treatment costs online.

Hospitalization. Surgery. Follow-up care. Everything combined—at least five hundred thousand dollars.

Panicked and lost, I took leave and went home.

In our shabby one-room house, Dad was clumsily lighting the stove. In the pot, he reheated leftovers he'd brought back from the construction site.

Mom sat in her wheelchair, laboriously breaking a painkiller in half before tilting her head back to swallow it.

Dad scolded her. "Last time, you nearly passed out because you didn't take enough! Why only half again?"

Mom sighed and pulled a wrinkled little notebook from her pocket.

"A bottle of painkillers costs dozens of dollars. Every bit saved counts."

"Lily's about to take her exams. Even if I have to squeeze it from between my teeth, I'll squeeze out her tuition."

The scene before me was like molten iron poured down my throat.

I'd come home to confess my illness. Now I couldn't open my mouth.

I stood in the doorway for a long time. Only after I'd stopped my tears did I dare step inside.

"Dad, Mom. I'm back."

Mom hurriedly hid the painkillers behind her. When she looked up and saw me, a flicker of joy crossed her sallow face.

"Lily, senior year is so hectic—how'd you find time to come home?"

I secretly stuffed the crumpled diagnosis into my pocket and forced a small smile.

"I missed you guys. Asked my teacher for leave."

Dad didn't scold me for being impulsive.

He took two eggs he'd been saving from the cabinet and steamed my favorite egg custard.

While eating, I kept my head low—low enough that my bangs hid the tear tracks on my face.

Mom noticed something was off.

She brushed the hair from my forehead, wiped my cheeks with the back of her hand, and asked gently, "Lily, did something happen?"

To keep them from worrying, I made up a lie.

"One of my classmates got really sick. But their family can't afford treatment."

"I think… they can only wait to die."

Dad sighed. "Only seventeen, eighteen years old. What a tragedy."

"If you ever got sick, your mom and I—even if we had to borrow from loan sharks, go sell our blood—we'd find a way to save you."

Mom glared at him. "Our Lily is perfectly healthy. Don't say such unlucky things!"

I couldn't help it—my hand trembled, and my chopsticks clattered to the floor.