From Severed Fingers to Sweet Success

As a single mother, to scrape together tuition for my daughter to study for her master's degree in the UK, I worked three jobs a day.

I even had an accident while working the night shift at a factorythe machine severed two of my right fingers.

But the day she got her UK visa, she was at the airport clinging to a wealthy businessman twenty years her senior, crying and laughing.

"Daddy, if you hadn't sponsored me to go abroad, my trash-collecting mom would have ruined my whole life."

I stood behind a pillar in the departure hall, holding up my freshly bandaged hand that was still bleeding through the gauze, frozen in place.

I stepped forward to call out to her, but her friend Isabella wrinkled her nose in disgust and shoved me away.

"Where'd this old hag come from? Get lost before you dirty Laura's designer clothes!"

I looked at my daughter. She wore exquisite makeup, and her eyes held no trace of guiltonly an icy warning.

In front of the rich man, she pulled out two hundred-pound notes from her purse and threw them in my face like she was dismissing a beggar.

"Take the money and get lost. I only have a sugar daddyI don't have some bottom-feeder poor mom!"

People around us pointed and whispered. The wealthy man patted her shoulder approvingly, praising how sensible she was.

I didn't pick up the money. I just calmly watched her go through security and board her flight.

Then I turned around and dialed the embassy.

"Hello, I'd like to file a formal report. Someone has falsified academic credentials and may be involved in illegal immigration."

After hanging up with the embassy, I didn't look back at the security checkpoint. I walked straight out of the departure hall.

When the spring breeze hit me, I realized I was soaked through with sweat.

The gauze on my right hand was saturated with blood, and fresh pain shot through the wound.

In the emergency room, the doctor unwrapped the bandage, his brow furrowing tightly.

"What happened? The fingers we just reattached have torn open again!"

"Did you get into a struggle with someone? If you keep this up, this hand will be permanently damaged!"

I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, but I just shook my head.

"Please, just wrap it tighter for me."

After getting my wound treated, I returned home and pushed open the rusted iron gate. The musty smell of the basement hit me in the face.

The room was a complete mess.

Before leaving, Laura had used scissors to shred all the old clothes she didn't want, and thrown them everywhere along with old shoes.

Looking at the chaos on the floor, waves of bitterness washed over me.

To let her wear decent clothes like other children.

I worked three jobs a day to earn living expenses, and even took night shifts at an unlicensed factory to pay for her tutoring.

But she broke my heart and trampled my dignity.

My eyes grew moist, but in the end, no tears fell.

I pulled out a black garbage bag and swept the shredded fabric into it.

I stuffed this garbage along with the designer bag I'd bought with money from my first blood donation into the bag.

Then I carried these two black bags and mercilessly threw them into the dumpster outside the complex.

Just as I finished throwing away the trash, my phone vibrated.

It was a reply from the embassy:

[Hello. Regarding your report about Ms. Laura's suspected academic fraud and unclear visa funding sources, we have initiated a joint investigation with customs. Thank you for your cooperation.]

Looking at the words on the screen, my lips gradually curved upward.

Almost simultaneously, my phone rang. It was Laura.

The moment I answered, Laura's shriek came through:

"You old bitch! Did you report me?! Why did customs detain me?!

They said my visa has been frozen and they're going to investigate Daddy's financial records!"

Hearing her voice crack as she screamed, I felt nothing but satisfaction.

"Yes. You're my daughter. I won't let you sell your body!"

"Are you insane?! I'm your daughter! You're ruining my future! I'll kill you"

Before she could finish cursing, I hung up and blocked her number.

Back in the basement, I looked at the passbook on the table containing my work injury compensation and took a deep breath.

This money was originally meant to be her living expenses abroad.

Now, I would use it to move out of this basement and start my real life.

The next afternoon, the basement's iron door was kicked open with a bang.

Laura burst in with her suited sugar daddy.

Her friend Isabella followed aggressively behind them.

"Smack!"

A visa rejection letter was thrown in my face by Laura.

"You poisonous old witch! Are you satisfied now?! My visa's been revoked! I'm banned from entering the UK for three years!"

Laura pointed at my nose, her eyes bloodshot.

"You're bottom-feeding trash rotting in the mudfine! But why do you have to drag me down with you!"

Isabella beside her covered her nose, her face full of disgust as she fanned the flames.

"Exactly! Laura accepted Mr. Osman as her daddy. She was going to become a real lady of status."

"You're just jealous that Mr. Osman has more money than you, so you sabotaged her, didn't you? You poverty-stricken lunatic!"

Mr. Osman stood with his belly protruding, looking down at my room condescendingly.

He pulled a stack of cash from his briefcase and threw it on the table.

"Ten thousand pounds. Go to the UK embassy and withdraw your report. Tell them you were having a psychotic episode and talking nonsense."

Mr. Osman flicked ash from his cigar, his tone arrogant.

"Women are so short-sighted. Your daughter will live the high life with me. You should be grateful."

I looked at the ten thousand pounds on the table and laughed coldly.

"Mr. Osman is so generous."

Then I raised my head and stared at Laura.

"She paid someone to take her exams for her."

"Mr. Osman, you don't really think Laura's a genius, do you?"

"Are you sure she can bring you any value if she goes abroad?"

Laura's expression changed drastically. She screamed in humiliation and rage:

"Shut up! Daddy, don't listen to this crazy woman's nonsense!"

She looked around frantically, then suddenly spotted the passbook I'd placed under my pillow.

It was my severed finger injury compensation!

"What's this?!"

Laura's eyes lit up. She pounced over and snatched the passbook.

Opening it, her eyes went wide.

"Three hundred thousand?! You've been hiding three hundred thousand from me!"

She reached under the pillow and pulled out my ID card, viciously stuffing it into her own pocket.

"Is the password my birthday? Even if you don't tell me, I'll figure it out!"

My expression changed. I rushed forward to grab it back.

"Give it back! That's my severed finger compensation! That's my lifeline!"

"What do you mean YOUR money? You ruined my dream of going abroadconsider this compensation for my emotional distress!"

Laura clutched the passbook and ID card, backing away self-righteously.

I lunged and grabbed her wrist, but she yanked hard.

My freshly bandaged right hand slammed heavily into the iron bed frame. The wound hadn't healed at all yet.

"Rip"

Sharp pain instantly spread from my fingertips. The gauze was stained red with blood, dripping onto the cement floor.

I collapsed to my knees in pain, my whole body convulsing uncontrollably.

"Oh please, are you trying to scam us?" Isabella rolled her eyes from the side.

Osman snorted coldly and gave a look.

His two bodyguards immediately stepped forward and roughly shoved me against the wall, escorting Laura out.

"Mom, I'm taking this three hundred thousand."

"You can just rot in this moldy basement and fend for yourself!"

Laura waved the passbook and ID card, linked arms with Osman, and strutted away in her high heels.

I lay in my own blood, watching their retreating figures, biting my lip until I tasted blood.

Laura, since you're going to be so ruthless, don't blame me for being merciless.

I endured the severe pain and shakily dialed the police with my left hand.

The police arrived quickly, but when they learned that the person who'd stolen my belongings was my own biological daughter whom I'd carried for ten months, they showed helpless expressions.

According to regulations, the police could only temporarily classify it as a domestic property dispute and needed further investigation before filing a case.

The officer in charge saw me lying in a pool of blood looking pitiful. After taking my statement, he immediately took me to the relevant department.

He helped me file emergency reports for a lost ID card and freeze the passbook.

The three hundred thousand couldn't be recovered immediately, but at least I'd secured the money in the account so Laura couldn't squander it.

By the time I returned to the basement after getting my wound re-stitched at the hospital, it was late at night.

My right hand was wrapped in gauze, each throb accompanied by stabbing pain.

Just then, my phone started vibrating crazily.

Hundreds of abusive text messages from unknown numbers flooded my inbox.

I opened a short video platform and found that on the homepage feed, Laura had posted a five-minute accusatory video.

In the video, she wore fake no-makeup makeup, tears streaming down her face as she tearfully accused me of being an evil mother.

She lied to the camera, claiming I'd tried to sell her for bride price money to pay gambling debts, even slandering that I'd deliberately self-harmed my severed fingers to extort money from her.

She also played the victim, saying I was jealous she'd received sponsorship to study abroad, so I maliciously spread rumors to ruin her future.

Oh my god, how can such an evil mother exist?

Unfit to be human!

Poor girl, what bad luck to have a mother like that.

Support the daughter cutting ties!

People like this should just die!

The comment section was outraged.

Even my former coworkers at the factory believed the lies and sent me messages cursing me out.

You always seemed honest, but I never knew you were so vicious, harming your own daughter. Disgusting!

Facing the online mob, I didn't cry.

I looked coldly at Laura's face on the screen, methodically saving her defamatory video with my left hand.

Then I took screenshots and screen recordings of all the vicious comments and personal attacks the video had attracted.

Next, my gaze fell on the laptop in the corner.

It was an old computer Laura had disdained as too outdated to take with her.

Laura was careless. She thought emptying the recycle bin solved everything.

But she didn't know that as long as the hard drive wasn't destroyed, data could be recovered.

I spent the whole night using my left hand to control the mouse, using recovery software I'd found online to gradually excavate the secrets buried deep in this computer.

When the progress bar reached one hundred percent and I opened the hidden billing statements and chat records that had been recovered,

I broke out in a cold sweat, then laughed out loud in the basement.

Mr. Osman's several trading companies were all shells used as fronts for overseas fraud syndicates to launder money!

The funds Laura had been dreaming about for going abroad all came from dirty accounts.

Not only that, I also recovered several eye-burning videos.

The protagonists of the videos were actually Osman and Laura's friend Isabella, who kept calling him sugar daddy!

This seemingly innocent Isabella wasn't just a business partnershe'd been sleeping with Osman all along.

Laura had become a tool Isabella used to please her benefactor.

I extracted those money laundering flow statements, along with the exam proxy transfer records and pornographic videos, and organized them into categories.

As morning sunlight filtered into the basement, I pressed send.

I sent them in encrypted compressed file format to the Economic Investigation Division's verified report email, copying the tax bureau.

Laura, it's time to wake up from your dream of marrying into wealth.

Three days later, to whitewash her reputation, Laura held a high-profile banquet at a luxury hotel in the city center.

She announced publicly that although her mother's interference had temporarily prevented her from going to the UK,

Mr. Osman had already arranged for her to enter a prestigious domestic academy.

The banquet hall was brightly lit.

Many of Osman's business associates attended, along with Laura's classmates.

Social media influencers she'd invited for publicity filled the hall.

I pushed open the banquet hall doors wearing old clothes, my right hand wrapped in thick bandages.

The entire venue instantly fell silent.

"Oh my god, that's the evil mother from online, right?"

"How does she have the nerve to show up? Dressed so shabby."

"Probably saw her daughter made it big and came to extort more money. So disgusting."

The guests pointed and whispered, their contempt undisguised.

Laura stood on stage in a gown.

Seeing me, a flash of triumph crossed her eyes, then she put on a wronged expression.

"Mom, what are you doing here? Haven't you hurt me enough?"

She held the microphone, her voice choking.

"But no matter how evil you are, you're still my mom."

"As long as you admit your mistake in front of everyone today, I'm willing to forgive you."

Isabella sneered from the side, stirring things up:

"Who apologizes standing up? If you're truly repentant, you should kneel and apologize to Laura!"

"Right! Kneel and apologize!"

Several people who'd been bribed started jeering from below the stage.

Just then, Osman stood up from the main table, holding documents, looking down at me condescendingly.

"Since you're here, just sign it."

Mr. Osman threw the documents on the floor in front of me.

He used a threatening tone to make me sign that notarized statement admitting to slander and severing the mother-daughter relationship.

Laura walked to the edge of the stage and threatened me in a voice only we could hear:

"If you don't sign today, I'll have my online team destroy your reputation so you can't survive in this city!"

"Sign it, and I'll give you back half the money from the passbook."

Give me back half? Using my lifeline money to threaten me?

I looked at the humiliating document on the floor, then at that face on stage that resembled mine yet looked so hateful.

I calmly bent down and picked up the pen with my left hand.

"Fine, I'll sign," I said flatly.

Laura and Isabella exchanged glances, smiles of triumph on their faces.

Mr. Osman also exhaled a satisfied puff of smoke, watching me submit.

I held the pen and walked up to the stage step by step, standing before Laura and Mr. Osman.

Then, under everyone's expectant gaze waiting for my submission,

I used both hands and tore the document in half. Then I continued tearing, shredding the document to pieces.

With a swoosh, I violently threw the handful of confetti into the shocked faces of Laura and Mr. Osman!

Paper scraps fluttered to the floor. Laura screamed:

"You crazy old woman, what are you doing?!"

"What am I doing?"

I looked at them, a cold smile curving my lips.

My voice carried through the microphone across the banquet hall:

"Laura, Osman. Did you really think that during these past few days when I didn't fight back, all I did was make one phone call to the embassy?"

As soon as I finished speaking, the guests in the hall who'd been ready to watch me humiliated looked at each other.

Everyone fell silent.

Laura paused, then covered her mouth and sneered:

"Phone calls? Who else could you call? The psychiatric hospital?!"

"You old hag, are you so traumatized you're having delusions? Everyone look, this woman's gone insane! Quick, get security to drag her out!"

Isabella beside her joined in the mockery:

"Exactly! Wearing rags to a five-star hotel pretending to be rich."

"Mr. Osman, look how pathetic she is. She's probably money-crazy and daydreaming!"

Osman crushed out his cigar, his expression dark, and barked:

"A toast refused means a forfeit drunk! Someone, hold this crazy woman down!"

"This agreementshe'll sign it whether she wants to or not!"

Two bodyguards immediately lunged toward me.

Just as Laura and the others looked triumphant,

BANG!

The banquet hall doors were pushed open from outside!