The Diagnosis That Changed Everything

I rented an apartment in a different part of the city and started a new job. The city was too big—they would never find me again.

Once I'd settled, I returned home for a visit.

After graduating from university, I had always lived with my family. Several times I had tried to move out, but my mother kept a tight grip on my salary, funneling my earnings to support Keith and Kathy.

That money belonged to me, and I was determined to take it back.

A few days ago, the house had been reduced to ruins, but now it had been restored.

When they saw me walk in, they glared with gritted teeth. I didn't waste a word. I threw the papers I'd brought straight in front of them.

"I don't want your kidneys. But all the money you spent that was mine? You'll have to pay it back."

On the floor lay detailed printouts of my bank statements over the years. Every single withdrawal my mother had made was accounted for. There was no denying it.

Kathy scanned the numbers and screamed, "We don't have that kind of money!"

"You know how much it is. Didn't seem like too much when you spent it, did it? Pay up—now."

I plopped down on the floor like I wasn't leaving without every cent.

My mother waved her hands furiously, trying to shoo me away. "I raised you for over twenty years. How dare you even think about your money? Get out!"

I sneered and pulled a small knife from my pocket. "No money? Fine. I won't have the funds to treat my illness, and if I lose control… I don't know what I might do."

"Hey, Kathy, I remember Zac is in fifth grade, Class Two, right?"

At my words, everyone froze, too afraid to make a move. They didn't dare risk me snapping and taking everything with me.

"Fine! We'll pay! Take the money and get out immediately!"

"Of course," I said. After seeing the transfer notification pop up on my phone, I finally stood and dusted myself off.

Before leaving, I took a slow look around the house I had once lived in. "This house was left by Dad. By rights, shouldn't I have a share too?"

Keith nearly lost it. "Get out! This house is mine now. It has nothing to do with you!"

I said nothing, just left a look on my face heavy with meaning. That alone was enough to keep them awake at night with worry.

After I left, they couldn't sleep for days, afraid I'd show up again if I ran out of money. Eventually, they decided to sell the house and disappear as far away as possible.

Not only that—they planned to transfer Zac to a school I couldn't find, thinking that if I lost my mind and sought revenge, it would be disastrous.

They acted quickly. Zac had gotten used to his current school and refused to leave. He kept screaming and throwing tantrums at home.

Keith, already irritated, slapped him across the face. That one slap was all it took to knock Zac unconscious.

My mother clutched him, crying and screaming. Keith assumed Zac was faking. "It's nothing! He's pretending; he's taken a hit before."

But I knew the truth—Zac passed out because he was really ill by now.