Chapter 4: Blood Debts and Public Reckonings

At some point, George Parker had dragged Wendy away.

They slipped out the side door, heads down. I watched them go, feeling strangely empty.

I looked up his company online—turns out it was registered just two months ago.

A quick Google search confirmed it—a shell company with no real assets. Just smoke and mirrors.

But my coworkers were resourceful and quickly found out more.

They dug up everything—old jobs, past addresses, even a few mugshots. Nothing about him was real.

“He used to be a laborer, then a ticket scalper. Managed a lot of people. Heard he made a fortune recently flipping something.”

“Yeah, just a wannabe trying to break into high society. Registered a shell company and thinks he’s a big boss.”

They shared the news in our group chat, complete with memes and GIFs.

But that wasn’t what I really wanted to know.

I needed answers about my mom, about Wendy’s past.

With a bit of hope, I asked: “Who’s his wife?”

“…His private life’s a mess. His wife left him early on, never remarried, but he’s always got women around.”

I felt a pang of disappointment. No happy reunions here.

So I called Wendy.

My hands shook as I dialed, unsure what I’d say.

She let out a brittle laugh—then hung up.

The sound sent chills down my spine. I knew she wouldn’t tell me the truth.

So I asked her roommates. They’d lived together for half a year; maybe they knew something.

I reached out to Tammy, hoping for answers.

Tammy looked surprised: “Her dad found a young woman. You didn’t know?”

I shook my head and listened as she explained:

Tammy’s voice was gentle, but I could tell she was uncomfortable.

“Wendy said she found her biological father in sophomore year. He wanted her to move home, but there was a woman there who didn’t like her. Every time they fought, her dad sided with the woman, so she stopped going back.”

I pictured Wendy, alone in that big house, feeling unwanted all over again.

“But her dad paid her tuition and living expenses every year—so at least he’s not heartless… Maya, are you okay?”

My hands were shaking badly.

I gripped the phone tighter, trying to steady my breath.

Wendy never told me she’d reconnected with her father back in sophomore year!

And I’d still been sending her tuition and living expenses!

I felt like a fool. All those years, I’d been nothing but a backup plan.

She took money from both her real dad and me, all while whining about being broke!

The betrayal stung, sharper than anything before.

I steadied myself. “I’m fine, Tammy. Go on.”

I tried to sound calm, but my voice was brittle.

“When she started working, she wanted to move home, but her dad had just married that woman, so she left again.”

“She thought your place was too shabby and insisted on renting a big apartment. I said we couldn’t afford it, but she said she’d pay more—if she ran out, she’d just ask you…”

I remembered her bragging about her new place, never once mentioning the cost.

“After the company laid her off, she cried for days and…” Tammy hesitated.

I finished for her: “She cursed me, right?”

Tammy nodded, looking embarrassed. “Yeah… When she couldn’t pay rent, she left without cleaning up—left a mess everywhere.”

I was once again floored by her behavior.

I couldn’t believe how little she cared about anyone else.

Finally, Tammy asked shyly:

“So, Maya, could you pay the last two months of rent she owes? The landlord keeps calling, and she blocked me…”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. It never ended.

…

George Parker asked to meet me privately.

He sent a formal email, as if we were business partners instead of family. I almost ignored it, but curiosity got the better of me.

After some hesitation, I picked a steakhouse a friend owned. We sat down—no small talk. I decided to get straight to the point.

The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place where deals get made and secrets get spilled.

“My mom…”

“Wendy’s mom…”

We spoke at the same time, both there for the same reason.

There was an awkward pause, the air thick with unspoken questions.

“Wendy was too young then to remember. That’s why I came to ask you—where did her mom go?”

He leaned back, looking even bulkier, his tone hostile, as if interrogating me.

He stared me down, trying to intimidate me. It didn’t work.

“So Mom didn’t leave to find you after all.”

I rubbed my forehead, sighed, and looked out the window.

The city lights blurred, and I felt a wave of sadness wash over me.

My feelings toward Mom were complicated. I hated what she did, hated that she abandoned us, but I still hoped to see her again.

Even after all these years, a part of me wished she’d walk through the door and explain everything.

He realized he wouldn’t get answers from me and didn’t seem to care. He straightened, taking a condescending tone:

He puffed up, trying to reclaim the upper hand.

“Your upbringing is clearly lacking. Out of respect for you as Wendy’s sister, I won’t hold that incident against you.”

He paused for effect, as if I should be grateful.

“But you abused Wendy growing up and humiliated her in public. I’ll make it clear:”

He leaned in, voice low and threatening.

“Wendy is now a Parker. I’m her real father. If you ever bully her again, remember me.”

He pointed at himself, staring me down.

He really thought he was something.

I snorted and shook my head.

I wasn’t afraid of him. Not anymore.

“I’m not here to argue. Grown-ups playing word games is pointless.”

I pulled out my notebook and set it on the table.

“Here’s my expense log. I won’t count the early years, but from college on, every expense for Wendy is recorded here.”

He skimmed the last few pages and tossed it aside, sneering:

He barely glanced at the numbers, dismissing them out of hand.

“Trying to scam me? When I found Wendy, she was already in her second year, starving. She said her family never gave her a cent—her tuition and living expenses all came from me!”

“Her family never gave her a cent.” I repeated. “Then what’s this?”

I slid my bank statements across the table, every payment highlighted. The proof was undeniable.

I’d brought my bank statements, every transfer labeled: two thousand a month for living, sixty-five hundred per semester for tuition, extra for bonuses.

He checked, even matched the account numbers to his own transfers.

He squinted at the paperwork, realization dawning. He’d been played, just like me.

Bank records don’t lie.

He got it. His bravado crumbled.

He slumped in his chair, the fight draining out of him.

“She… she told me she was broke, but…”

His voice was small, almost embarrassed.

I smiled. “Either way, your daughter spent the money. Now that she’s officially a Parker, and you’re a big shot in business, you’ll pay me back, right?”

I let the silence stretch, enjoying his discomfort.

“Wait, you’re asking me for money?”

“Of course.”

I didn’t even blink. It was only fair.

“You’re her sister. What’s wrong with helping her out…”

“I’m not her sister anymore. I’m Maya Zheng, she’s Wendy Parker.”

I made it clear—our ties were severed.

“Mr. Parker, you’re not getting a free daughter.”

He sputtered, caught off guard.

“You may be related, but legally, she’s still my dad’s daughter.”

I saw the confusion flicker in his eyes. He hadn’t thought it through.

“If you want to make it official, I suggest…” I smiled. “Pay up.”

I pushed the paperwork toward him, daring him to refuse.

“Take your time, Mr. Parker.”

I stood, gathered my things, and called out, “Waiter, he’s paying.”

I didn’t look back as I left. The relief was immediate.

Dad nearly smashed a bowl when he heard about it.

He paced the kitchen, muttering under his breath. I had to grab the bowl before it hit the floor.

I saved the bowl and said, “You never accepted her anyway. Now neither do I. Just let it go.”

He grumbled, but I could see the sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t easy for any of us.

Only after saying it did I realize how harsh I’d become toward Wendy.

I sat on the porch that night, watching the fireflies, wondering if I’d done the right thing.

George Parker, now old and alone, agreed to pay $300,000 and handle the legal paperwork to acknowledge Wendy as his daughter.

The check cleared a week later. I stared at the number, half in disbelief.

Dad went to file the paperwork. If I hadn’t held him back, he’d have fought George Parker again.

I pictured the two of them bickering in the courthouse, old grudges flaring up. I was glad I stayed out of it.

Wendy stood by, chin held high. When the clerk stamped the papers, she snatched them up, almost jumping with joy.

She looked like a kid at Christmas, clutching her prize.

“Dad, I’m finally your official daughter!”

Still with that cutesy voice, and a big kiss for George Parker.

I just stared at them, speechless.

I rolled my eyes, not even surprised anymore.

Dad snorted, not wanting to stay a second longer.

He grabbed his hat and stormed out, muttering about “ungrateful kids.”

Though he’d always had issues with her, after so many years, some feelings remained. Making him do this meant admitting he’d been cheated on all those years ago—no small thing.

He sat on the porch that night, staring into the dark, lost in memories. I left him alone.

But I was done with Wendy. Since she’d hurt me so deeply, I wouldn’t cling to a sisterhood that never existed. I’d be rational and count my gains.

I told myself it was time to move on, to let go of the past.

The $300,000 arrived in my account.

I checked my balance three times, just to be sure. It felt like a fresh start.

I used it as a down payment on a place for Dad, with me covering the mortgage.

I picked a cozy house on the edge of town, with a porch swing and a little garden. Dad grumbled about the mortgage, but I knew he was happy.

My kindness is only for those who deserve it.

I made a silent promise to myself: no more giving to people who took me for granted.

And for the coworker who brought me medicine.

I sent her flowers and a thank-you card, but it didn’t feel like enough. I wanted to do more.

When we’d gone shopping, she’d liked a dress but thought it too expensive. I remembered her size and decided to buy it for her.

I wrapped it in tissue paper, added a handwritten note, and left it on her desk at work. She hugged me so tight I thought my ribs would crack.