Delisting The Failed Investment

In my parents' eyes, I was a depreciating asseta bad investment they were waiting to dump.

When I was seven, I came home with a silver medal from the math decathlon. My mother didnt look at the trophy. She looked at me and said, Remember, Tess, second place is just the first of the losers.

Years later, when I confessed how soul-crushing my job had become, my father simply pointed at the window. "Go down to the docks at 4:00 AM. Look at the men hauling crates in the freezing rain. They have real problems. You? Youre just self-indulgent."

On New Years Eve, I dragged my exhausted body through the front door after pulling eighty-hour weeks for fourteen days straight. I just wanted a bed. Instead, I got a performance review.

At dinner, my mother expertly carved the roast chicken.

She handed a prime breast to my cousin, Bradley: "Tenured at the state department. A man with a real career. The pride of the family."

She handed a succulent leg to my cousin, Nora: "Married into the Sterling's. A girl who knows her value. She brings us grace."

Then it was my turn. She tossed the skinny, gristly neckthe parsons noseonto my plate.

"You eat this. Youre just a corporate drone. You have nothing to show for yourself compared to them."

If I was a failed investment, a stock destined to crash, then it was time to delist.

Permanently.

...

"Why aren't you eating? Is the food not good enough for you?"

My mothers fork tapped sharply against the rim of my plate. She narrowed her eyes at me. "Look at Bradley. Look how much hes enjoying it. You can't beat him in the office, you can't beat him in the bankcan you at least try not to be a failure at the dinner table?"

My hand tightened around my silverware.

Two weeks of overtime. Four hours of sleep a night. My nervous system was a frayed wire. Before Id opened the door, Id told myself that if I could just get one sip of hot soup, I could swallow a whole years worth of bitterness.

"I dont like the neck," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"You don't like it?" My father slammed his scotch glass onto the table. "Who are you to have preferences? Bradley just pulled a sixty-thousand-dollar bonus. And you? You come home empty-handed and have the audacity to be picky?"

My mother chimed in, her voice dripping with practiced condescension. "Eat it. You have to eat it. In the old country, they say the neck is the 'Phoenixs End.' Its supposed to ward off bad luck. It's the only way youre ever going to turn your pathetic life around."

She leaned in, her eyes scanning my tired face. "Im doing this for your own good. I saved this piece specifically for you. I wouldnt give it to anyone else."

Under the table, she kicked my shin hard. "Everyone is looking at you," she hissed. "Smile. Stop looking so miserable, like were abusing you."

I forced my lips into a grotesque imitation of a smile.

My Aunt Sarah sat across from us, cracking sunflower seeds and watching me like a hawk. "So, Tess, working at a tech giant like that... you must have a massive 401k, right? Any boyfriends? The girl down the street just got engaged. The ring alone cost eighty thousand."

My father cut in before I could breathe, his voice booming with a strange, post-drink bravado. "Ha! Her? Save money? She spends it as fast as she makes it. As for marriage..."

He pointed a finger at me, a distorted sense of pride flickering on his face. "I tell Tess all the time: material things are fleeting. People who obsess over dowries and rings are just selling their souls. When she asked for help with her mortgage last month, I gave her four words: Self-reliance is virtue."

He thumped his chest. "She might not be a millionaire, but shes obedient. She knows the familys struggles. Those words are the true spiritual wealth Ive given her."

The relatives offered a chorus of half-hearted praise.

"So deep, Richard."

"A father with real vision."

The praise buzzed in my ears like a swarm of wasps.

I had used my scholarships, my bonuses, and my sanity to pay off their mortgage, dollar by dollar. I bought their "vision" so they could look dignified in front of the neighbors. And in return, theyd dismissed my plea for help with a lecture on virtue.

"Eat!" my mother prompted again. "Youre not leaving this table until its gone."

Bradley leaned back in his chair, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he sipped his wine. "Go on, Tess. Auntie is favoring you. Its all fat. Good for the brain."

Nora laughed, her eyes bright with malice. She pulled out her phone and aimed the camera at me. "Come on, Tess. Do it for the 'Gram. Show everyone how much you love it."

My chest heaved.

Shaking, I picked up that greasy, hairy piece of meat. I shoved it into my mouth.

The rancid fat exploded against my tongue, the smell of it hitting the back of my throat like a physical blow.

I wanted to retch.

But my mothers foot nudged me again under the table.

I grit my teeth and swallowed the nausea along with my tears.

"Look at her!" Nora shrieked with laughter. "She looks like a stray dog begging for scraps!"

My mother hummed in satisfaction. A second later, her face transformed into a mask of fawning adoration as she placed a prime rib on Bradleys plate. "Here, Bradley, have more. Youre the future of this family, after all."

I lowered my head, pushing cold rice around my bowl.

The sickness in my stomach eventually subsided.

But somewhere deep inside me, something had finally, quietly, died.

New Years Day.

I hadnt slept. My eyes were bruised with exhaustion. I sat on the sofa, clutching a mug of hot water. My mother tossed an old, scratchy blanket over my legs, grumbling under her breath. "Don't get sick. Nobody has time to nurse you."

My father walked past, nudging the mug toward my face. "Drink up. Stop acting like a martyr. Its the first day of the year; dont bring that dark energy into my house."

"I've been having insomnia," I said, my voice raspy. "The overtime at the office..."

"Overtime?" he scoffed. "Sitting in a climate-controlled office is 'hard work' now? Try hauling drywall for twelve hours and then talk to me."

My mother emerged from the kitchen with a plate of breakfast, adding the finishing blow. "We spent a fortune on your education just to raise a fragile, entitled girl. Bradley was out drinking until 3:00 AM and he was up at dawn to visit the elders. Thats what we call grit."

I looked up at them, my vision blurring. "Is that all you have for me? A list of people Im worse than?"

My mother slammed the plate onto the coffee table. "You are worse than most people. If you don't compare yourself, you'll never realize how much of a failure you are."

She pointed at the bags of gifts Id brought home. "Look at this trash. Thats all you brought? Nora bought her parents a 75-inch OLED TV. What have you done to bring this family honor?"

"Fine," I said, standing up. "What about you? Most of the girls I work with had their parents buy them their first condos. Their parents paved the way for them. Why dont I compare you to those parents?"

My fathers face turned the color of raw liver.

He lunged forward and backhanded me so hard the buttons on his dress shirt strained. "You ungrateful bitch! You think were poor? Youre a goddamn leech!"

"Why don't you compare us to the addicts on 5th Street? Or the kids in foster care? We fed you! We raised you!"

I looked at him, and for a moment, I wanted to laugh.

"Right," I whispered, clutching my throbbing cheek. "You're always 'just enough.' And Im always 'never enough.'"

"Don't you talk back!" My mother lunged, shoving me backward.

I stumbled, my hip slamming into the wooden arm of the sofa. A dull, sickening ache radiated through my bone.

She held out her hand, palm up. "Give me your savings from this year."

"What?"

"You're too stupid to manage it. Youll just get scammed," she said with terrifying entitlement. "Your Aunt Sarah needs a new car, and youre going to 'lend' her the money. Its called building social capital. Do you understand?"

"You're a nobody right now, Tess. You need to suck up to Nora and her husband. If you give Sarah a hundred thousand now, when you inevitably lose that little job of yours, they might drop a few crumbs to keep you fed. Im paving your way!"

I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was packed with cotton. "That was my down payment. For my own place."

My father roared, "Stop being so selfish! Use your head for once!"

He pointed to the door. "Give us the money, or get the hell out. And don't bother coming back!"

My mother stared at me, her eyes predatory. "You were always the 'good' child. Be good now. Don't make us look bad in front of the family."

Her phone buzzed. She put it on speaker. Aunt Sarahs voice filled the room. "I found the Lexus! Im just a hundred thousand short. Tess is at that big tech firm, surely shes got it? Transfer it over!"

My mother shoved the phone in my face. "You heard her. Shes already counting on it."

"Transfer it," my father commanded. "Now. Don't waste our time."

I looked at them. Really looked at them.

I slowly pulled the card from my pocket.

"Here."

I stared into their eyes, my voice flat. "A hundred thousand. Were even now, right?"

My mother snatched the card so fast I thought shed break my fingers. "Even?" she snorted. "Dream on. As long as youre breathing, you owe us."

My father grinned. "Thats right. Thats just your lot in life."

I sat back down on the sofa, feeling completely hollow.

The relationship with my parents was like a heavy, sopping wet wool coat. I had worn it for twenty-three years, and it had finally frozen solid.

It didn't just weigh me down anymore. It was entombed me in ice. Every breath I took hurt.

By noon, my face was still swollen, but the doorbell rang anyway.

My mother practically sprinted to open it.

"Mr. Henderson! Please, come in!"

A man walked in, his eyes raking over me from head to toe. He smiled, revealing teeth stained yellow by coffee and tobacco.

"So, this is Tess?" he said. "A bit thin, but... the frame is good."

I instinctively backed away. "Mom, who is this?"

My mother grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in like talons, and dragged me toward him. "This is Miller Henderson! He owns three properties in the valley. Recently divorced, no kids. You marry him, and youll never have to work a day in your life."

My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. "I'm twenty-three!"

"So what?" my father barked, already offering Henderson a cigar. "Youre practically twenty-five. Miller might be older, but older men know how to provide!"

He turned to Henderson with a groveling smile. "Miller, the girl down the streetthe one who married the developerher family got a massive payout. Our Tess is a top-tier university grad. She brings prestige. Theoretically, her 'value' is higher."

He paused, playing the part of the reasonable patriarch. "But were fair people. Since youve been married before, we won't ask for the world. Seven hundred thousand. A nice, lucky number."

A cold sweat broke out over my skin. I wasn't their daughter. I was a KPI. I was a performance metric they were trying to hit to win a game against the neighbors.

Henderson toyed with a heavy ring on his finger, his eyes narrowing. "Seven hundred? Shes educated, sure... but I heard she works at one of those internet companies. Isn't that just a glorified call center? I hear those places are cesspools. No one gets home before midnight. How is she supposed to take care of a house?"

"And besides," he added, "shell be aged out and fired by thirty-five. Thats not a real career."

My mother nodded vigorously, her smile sickeningly sweet. "You are so right, Miller! Ive always said her job isn't respectable. Tapping away at a computer all day? It adds no value to society. Not like your construction firm."

She turned to me, her voice dropping to a hiss. "Youll quit the moment youre married. You aren't making real money anyway. A womans place is supporting her husband."

My fists clenched until my nails drew blood from my palms. "I have a career. I make two hundred thousand a year. I can take care of myself!"

My father glared at me. "Thats not a career! Thats being a servant to a corporation! Miller pulls in millions on a single contract. Your yearly salary wouldn't cover one of his dinners!"

He turned back to Henderson, laughing off my "outburst." "Shes just young and foolish. Don't mind her."

My mother reached out to straighten my collar, her voice low and coercive. "Once youre married and have someone to lean on, your father and I can finally stop worrying about you."

She gave me a hard shove toward him. "Go! Pour him a drink!"

I stumbled, nearly falling into the mans lap. Henderson reached out. His handthick, damp, and hotclamped around my wrist.

"Fragile little thing," he chuckled, his thumb rubbing over my skin in a way that made my stomach turn. "Don't be shy, Tess. Stay with me, and youll be living the high life. Isn't that better than killing yourself at a desk?"

I tried to pull away. He held tighter.

I looked at my parents. I was begging for help with my eyes.

They stood there, wearing identical expressions of smug satisfaction.

"Let go!" I screamed.

I threw my weight backward with everything I had.

CRASH!

I knocked over the glass pitcher on the coffee table. It shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.

Hendersons face darkened.

SLAP!

My fathers hand hit my face before I could even register the movement.

The second one today.

My ears rang. My face burned like it had been branded.

"You ungrateful brat!" my father screamed, his eyes bloodshot. "Miller Henderson is interested in you, and you act like a common tramp? Youre going to embarrass us?"

My mother jumped in, pinning my shoulders down. "Don't you dare ruin this for us!"

My father stepped closer, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "Im telling you now. You are marrying this man. Whether you like it or not."

I looked down at the shattered glass on the floor, my hand over my face.

Suddenly, the fight just... left me.

"Fine," I whispered.

"I'll marry him."

After Henderson left, the house felt like it was celebrating a victory.

My mother was beaming. "Think of how jealous the neighbors will be! No one will ever laugh at us again for not having a 'successful' child."

I sat on a small stool in the corner, my phone vibrating in my pocket.

It was the work Slack.

The servers were down. A critical system failure. We needed an emergency patch immediately.

By instinct, I stood up and ran to my room to grab my laptop.

The moment my fingers touched the keys, my fathers shadow fell over the doorway.

"What do you think youre doing?"

"The company has a crisis," I said, not looking up. "I have to fix this. Itll take ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" he sneered. "Its New Years Day and youre still acting like a slave for that company? Look at Nora. Shes married to a winner; shes going to the Maldives next week."

He walked into the room, his voice rising. "And you? Youre like a guard dog, barked at and jumping whenever they whistle."

"Dad, if I don't fix this, I'll be the scapegoat. I could lose my job"

"Then lose it!" My mother appeared, slamming my laptop screen shut. "Did you not hear us? Youre marrying Miller. Youre quitting this pathetic job!"

I tried to open the laptop again, but she held it down with all her strength. "You spend every waking hour on this machinedoes it give you a Porsche? Does it give you status? All it gives you is the stench of the working class!"

"Shut it down!" my father commanded.

I let out a raw, jagged scream, shielding the computer with my body. "I won't! This is my life! This is how I eat!"

My fathers face twisted into a mask of pure rage. "You dare defy me?"

He lunged forward and snatched my phone from my hand. "The work group, right? Let me tell them exactly what I think of them."

I scrambled to get it back, but my mother tackled me from behind, pinning my arms. "Stop it! Let your father handle it!"

I watched, frozen in horror, as my father typed into the Slack channel using my account.

To all the managers and colleagues: Happy New Year. I quit. This system is trash because youre all incompetent leaders. You pay me peanuts and treat me like livestock. Never contact me again.

He wasn't done. He held down the voice memo button and roared into the phone:

"Your shitty company is going to go bankrupt anyway! Stop wasting my daughters time! Shes marrying a real man!"

A white light exploded in my brain.

I fought like a wild animal, my voice breaking. "Delete it! Give it back and let me delete it!"

My father shoved the phone into his pocket. "It's done. I'm helping you cut ties with this nonsense."

The Slack channel began to explode with notifications.

Tess? Are you drunk?

What is happening? Is this a joke?

My blood turned to ice.

My mother whispered in my ear, "See? Youre so pathetic, crying over a job. Soon youll be a woman of leisure. Why do you need this shameful paycheck anyway?"

My father turned his attention to the laptop.

I dove to block him.

He shoved me aside with a violent heave.

CRACK.

The laptop, covered in stickers from years of hard work, hit the tile floor.

The screen shattered into a spiderweb of dead pixels. The chassis bent. Internal components scattered across the floor like teeth.

I stood there, feeling like my skeleton had been removed.

My father breathed heavily, pointing at the wreckage with a sickening sense of righteousness. "I did this for you! Look at what this machine was doing to you! Youre going to be a wife with a seven-hundred-thousand-dollar bride price. Stop doing this servant work. Youre embarrassing the family name!"

My mother kicked a piece of the broken screen aside. "Stop crying. Out with the old, in with the new. One day, youll thank us for this."

I slowly knelt down.

I picked up the pieces, one by one.

"Dad. Mom."

I stood up and walked toward the balcony.

"This 'investment' called Tess? It's being delisted today."

I looked back at them, a calm I had never known settling over me.

"Thank you to all the shareholders for twenty-three years of short-selling and suppression. This exit is final. No refunds."

Without a moments hesitation, I gripped the railing and vaulted over.

The New Years wind was so incredibly cold.

As I fell, I thought I heard my mother scream. But for the first time in my life, I didn't have to care.