The Daughter I Paid For

My ex-husband saw the words autism on my daughter's diagnosis and slapped me across the face without hesitation.

You slut! You must have cheated while you were pregnant. Three generations of the Smith family, and we've never had a single idiot!

He forced me to sign divorce papers, threw down five hundred dollars, and vanished, cursing: "Raising this money pit? What rotten luck!"

For that one-in-ten-thousand chance of recovery, I quit my director position, sold everything of value, and during the hardest times, even waited in line at the hospital to sell my blood.

Ten years later, my daughter finally spoke and got into a top high school.

Her homeroom teacher called to say a "successful entrepreneur" had been anonymously supporting my daughter and wanted to meet me at school today.

I rushed to the principal's office in a shirt washed white with age, only to find my ex-husband.

He had his arm around my daughter, pointing at me: "Principal, look at herthis neurotic parenting style is what messed up the kid. Now that the child's doing well, she wants to swoop in and take credit."

My daughter frowned in an uncharacteristic way: "Mom, could you please not dress like this when you come to school? The other students think I'm some trash picker's kid."

She handed me a bank card: "There's fifty thousand dollars here. Dad says it's compensation for your ten years of hard work. Use it to make yourself look decent instead of being filthy all the time. I'm embarrassed to even tell people you're my real mother."

I felt an unprecedented sense of alienation and anger toward my daughter. Had all these years of her attachment to me and resentment toward her father been fake?

I laughed.

"Fine. I'll grant you both your wish. I hope you won't regret this later."

"Fine. Fifty thousand dollars. I accept itpayment for ten years of hard work."

I stuffed it in my pocket and turned to reach for Smith's hand.

"Emily, let's go home."

She jerked away as if burned, shrank back, and hid behind my ex-husband, Victor Smith.

"Mom, tonight... I'm going with Dad. You go home first."

Victor's current wife, Lily, immediately stepped forward and linked arms with Smith intimately, as if they were the real mother and daughter.

"Grace, Emily wants to see our house. Kids grow up and like new environmentsyou should be happy for her."

My heart sank to the bottom.

I stared at Smith, my voice trembling: "Have you forgotten how we lived these ten years? Have you forgotten how he abandoned us?"

Smith's shoulders shook, but her eyes kept darting away, refusing to meet mine.

"Enough!"

Victor impatiently pulled out a thick stack of cash from his wallet and shoved it roughly into my hands.

"Stop putting on this pity show. Too proud to know what's good for you. This is this month's child supportten thousand dollars. That's enough for you to live on."

The red bills felt like fire, searing my palm.

All my rationality shattered in that instant.

"Victor Smith!"

I used every ounce of strength to hurl that stack of money back in his face. It scattered across the ground.

"Don't you dare try to buy my daughter with your filthy money!"

The principal and homeroom teacher heard the commotion and rushed out of the office.

"Oh my, Ms. Reed, let's talk this out calmly! Please calm down!"

"That's right, Smith's mom. Mr. Smith is doing this for the child's good. Don't make a scene at the school entranceit looks bad."

Smith was terrified by my outburst. She clutched Lily's sleeve tightly, looking at me with fear in her eyes.

My heart felt like it was being torn apart. I reached out again, trying to take her hand.

"Emily, come home with me. Don't be afraid..."

"Don't touch me!"

She pushed me away violently.

I lost my balance and stumbled backward, landing hard on the ground.

"This is so embarrassing! I don't have a mother like you!"

Students and parents passing by gave me strange looks, whispering and pointing.

"Isn't that the autistic girl from Class Three, Grade Ten? Her mom does seem kind of off."

"I heard her dad's a big businessman who came specially to pick her up today."

"Tsk, then why is her mom making a scene? Turning down the good life?"

I sat on the ground, utterly humiliated, my dignity crushed.

Victor glanced at me with contempt, put his arm around Lily, and led Smith toward a black Mercedes parked at the entrance.

The luxury car's engine roared to life, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust.

I sat alone on the ground, surrounded by whispering crowds.

My heart felt like a piece had been violently ripped out, hollow and filled only with howling cold wind.

Sixteen years.

I had given everything, and this was my rewardpublic betrayal and humiliation.

I don't know how I made it back to that cramped rental apartment.

On the wall hung a photo of Smith and me embracing, both of us smiling so brightly.

I reached out to touch her adorable face in the picture.

The moment my fingertip touched the frame, I felt nothing but bitter irony.

I raised my hand and smashed the frame to the floor.

Late at night, my phone rang abruptly.

I jolted awake from the couch, seeing "Emily" flashing on the screen, my heart pounding wildly.

Had she regretted it? Did she want to come home?

I answered hastily, my voice trembling slightly.

"Emily?"

Silence on the other end for a few seconds, then her cold, impatient voice came through.

"Pack up my things. I'll send the driver tomorrow to pick them up."

My heart plunged back into an ice pit.

Early the next morning, a black Audi pulled up outside my shabby apartment building.

The driver looked at me with arrogance.

"Ms. Reed, Mr. Smith sent me to collect Miss Smith's belongings."

I blocked the hallway entrance, looking at him coldly.

"I won't give them to you unless I see Smith in person."

The driver smirked, pulled out his phone, dialed directly, and put it on speaker.

"Miss Smith, your mother refuses to give me the items."

Smith's irritated voice immediately came through.

"Mom! Stop making a scene, okay? What's the point of this harassment? Haven't you tortured me enough for ten years?"

"Tortured?"

I hung up and rushed out of the complex like a madwoman, hailing a cab straight to Victor's gated community, wanting to see if she was being coerced.

Unsurprisingly, the security guards stopped me at the entrance.

"Sorry, ma'am, you can't enter without an appointment."

No matter how I explained, the guards stood like a wall, coldly blocking me.

Just as I was about to despair, the villa's iron gate slowly opened.

Lily walked out leisurely with a cup of coffee.

She looked at my disheveled state, a fake sympathetic smile curling her lips.

"Oh my, Grace, why put yourself through this? Emily is taking lessons with her new private tutor. She doesn't have time to see you."

She sipped her coffee casually.

"Grace Reed, you should start living for yourself. Stop clinging to Emily. She's about to apply to college, enter high society. This isn't good for her future."

"Get lost!"

I forced the word through gritted teeth.

Lily didn't seem offended. She just shrugged and turned back inside.

I stood at that gate from morning to noon, then from noon to afternoon.

My legs felt like lead, but I wouldn't move an inch.

Three hours later, Smith finally came out.

She wore a brand-new Chanel dress and delicate leather shoes, completely different from the uniformed girl I'd seen yesterday.

I rushed forward and grabbed her arm.

"Why won't you see me? Why did you say I tortured you?"

She frowned prettily and shook off my hand forcefully.

"Dad hired eight tutors for memath, English, science, piano, horseback riding, French... How would I have time to see you?"

I held out the old backpack I'd been clutching, my voice softening.

"Emily, come home with me. Look, your favorite dollI kept it for you..."

Inside that old backpack was the stuffed toy she'd treasured as a child, sewn by my own hands, stitch by stitch.

She glanced at it, disgust filling her eyes.

"Those things are garbage. I stopped wanting them ages ago. Just throw them out."

"Garbage?"

I felt like I'd heard the biggest joke, my emotions completely collapsing.

"Emily Smith, where's your conscience? On your tenth birthday when you had a high fever, you cried holding that doll, saying you wanted it with you forever! Have you forgotten?"

She looked at me coldly and said something I would never forget.

"Can conscience get me into Harvard? Can conscience give me the good life I have now?"

With that, she turned without looking back and walked through that magnificent villa gate.

"Smith!"

I screamed her name desperately, trying to chase after her.

Two security guards immediately rushed over and dragged me out like a dead dog.

I struggled, but one guard shoved me hard, and I fell to the ground again.

My palms and knees scraped against the rough concrete, drawing blood.

That cold black gate slammed shut in front of me with a heavy bang.

My world completely collapsed.

A video of me "causing trouble" at Victor's gate was somehow filmed and posted to the neighborhood group chat.

The next day, the property management gave me a polite but firm "warning."

Neighbors looked at me with contempt and distance.

"That's herI heard her daughter was taken in by a big businessman, and she's still unhappy about it. Went to their gate and made a scene."

"Crazy from poverty, trying to extort money."

"Poor daughter. Finally makes something of herself, and her mom drags her down."

Rumors and gossip cut me like invisible knives.

An old colleague I hadn't contacted in ages must have heard about my situation and got me an administrative job.

The pay wasn't great, but at least it could ease my immediate crisis.

I forced myself to go to work.

But I didn't even last one full day.

Just after starting, people were whispering in the office break room.

As I walked past, I clearly heard them discussing a video.

When I returned to my desk, the colleague next to me gave me a strange look and quietly put away her phone.

My heart sank.

I searched my name on the computer, and a glaring video title popped up.

[Shocking! Teen Girl Tearfully Accuses: Ten Years of Living Hell, Autism Actually Caused by Mother's Mental Abuse!]

My hands trembled as I clicked the video.

In the footage, Smith sat on a luxurious sofa in a white dress, eyes filled with tears.

"My mother... because her life wasn't going well, she took all her frustrations out on me."

"For ten years, she often hit me, yelled at me, wouldn't let me interact with anyone outside, saying everyone out there was bad... that's why I... became autistic."

Victor and Lily held her on either side.

Victor faced the camera with a pained expression: "As her father, I failed. I let my child suffer so much. From now on, I'll give her the best compensation."

Lily gently wiped Smith's tears: "Good child, it's all in the past. From now on, you have me and Victor. No one will dare bully you again."

At the end of the video were photos of me "making scenes" at the school and villa gate, the child's terror contrasting sharply with my twisted expression.

All the blood in my body froze instantly.

"Grace Reed, come to my office."

My boss's voice came from the doorway.

The boss didn't look at me, just stared at the computer screen.

"Our company may be small, but we value our corporate image. We don't want employees with 'character issues.' You... don't need to come in tomorrow."

I frantically pulled out my phone and dialed Smith's number.

"Why would you do this? Why lie! When did I ever abuse you!"

The voice on the other end remained ice cold.

"I just told the 'truth.' You're the one who's psychologically twisted and won't admit it."

"You're lying!"

"Think whatever you want," she coldly interrupted. "Don't call me anymore. I don't want to see you again, you 'abusive psycho mother.'"

The call ended.

I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe she could be this heartless.

I rushed to her school, wanting to confront her face-to-face.

Her classmates blocked me, looking at me like I was some kind of monster.

"Smith says she doesn't want to see you. Stop harassing her."

In just one day, I became the evil mother everyone online wanted to condemn.

My personal information, home address, and workplace were all exposed.

My front door was spray-painted with red paint: "Vicious woman," "Get out."

Someone even threw feces at my door.

The landlord called, demanding I move out immediately.

My only outlet was to run to the old house about to be demolished.

It was the only inheritance my parents left me.

I clutched the inheritance deed, sitting on the dusty floor, crying my heart out.

I didn't understand.

Why would the daughter I raised with my life use the most vicious lies to personally push me into irredeemable hell?

Just then, my phone vibrated.

A text from an unknown number.

"Want to know the truth? They have a son. He's dying."

I froze, then laughed bitterly.

Another prank?

I deleted the message and curled up on the cold floor, letting the darkness swallow me whole.

I was eventually driven out by the landlord.

He pointed at my door covered in paint and filth, cursing.

"You jinx! Get out! If you don't leave, I'm calling the police!"

I dragged a shabby suitcase, wandering the streets like a homeless dog with nowhere to go.

Night fell. With nowhere to turn, I could only sit on a park bench.

My phone rangthe demolition office calling to notify me I could come sign the contract.

After hanging up, I looked at my reflection on the phone screen: disheveled hair, sallow complexion, hollow eyes.

I truly had nothing left.

Just then, a black sedan stopped in front of me. A man in a suit stepped out.

He looked at me with pity and handed over a document.

*Voluntary Relinquishment of Guardianship and Severance of Family Relations Agreement*.

Those words burned my eyes like red-hot iron.

"Ms. Reed, Mr. Smith says if you sign this agreement, he's willing to give you another hundred thousand dollars in 'compensation.'"

"This way, Miss Emily can be officially adopted by Lily. Her record will be clean, which is good for her future."

I laughed coldly and didn't take it.

The lawyer seemed to expect my reaction. Calmly, he pulled out another stack of photos from his briefcase and threw them in front of me.

Photos of me sleeping miserably on park benches, picking up bottles near trash cans... every degrading angle captured.

"Ms. Reed, you need to think carefully. If these photos reach the media, what do you think people online will say about you?"

My body began trembling uncontrollably.

Just as I was about to break down, another luxury car pulled up.

Victor and Lily, with Smith, appeared before me.

Smith wore an expensive designer outfit I couldn't even name, her makeup flawless. She walked up to me, her eyes cold and resolute.

She glanced at the agreement by my feet, then looked up at me.

"Mom, be dignified. Just sign it."

Her voice corroded my heart like acid, word by word.

"You can't give me the future I want. Don't drag me down anymore."

I stared hard at her face, trying to find even a trace of reluctance or pain.

But there was nothing.

Seeing my hesitation, she suddenly reached out and shoved me hard!

Unprepared, my back slammed into the metal armrest of the bench. Sharp pain shot through my ribs.

I gasped in agony.

She didn't even look, just shoved the pen into my hand.

"If you don't sign, I'll kneel right now and beg you! Let everyone see how heartless you are as a mother!"

I looked at this face, both familiar and strange.

Looked at the determination and cruelty in her eyes.

I suddenly laughed.

Laughed until tears streamed down my face.

I picked up the pen and forcefully signed my name at the bottom of that agreement.

Then I looked up, meeting her cold gaze, and told her word by word:

"Fine. I'll grant you both your wish. I hope you won't regret this later."