The Abandoned Heiress,I Was Never Your Second Choice

Ten years after my parents abandoned me, they finally found me.

On the first day, they spent their entire savings to buy me an eight-hundred-dollar down jacket.

On the second day, Dad worked a night shift, saying he wanted to give me a red envelope for New Year's Eve.

On the third day, Mom took an early morning job to help pay my tuitionand slipped and fell, landing herself in the hospital.

I thought maybe they really had abandoned me because of crushing debt, not because I was born slow.

I returned the jacket, made a pot of beef and rib congee, bought some supplements, and went to visit Mom at the hospital.

That's when I saw hera stylish, fashionably dressed girl carrying a Herms bag, walking into Mom's room.

"Mom, even if you wanted to pick me up from the airport, you didn't have to drive so recklessly," the girl said with an exasperated sigh.

"I haven't seen you in six months! I missed you." Mom smiled, clasping the girl's hand. "Cynthia, you're the most perfect child we could ever ask for. Even more precious than our own flesh and blood!"

The thermos slipped from my fingers. Beef and rib congee splattered across the floor.

My eyes stung. I turned and walked away in silence.

If you already have your perfect child...

Why did you come looking for me?

By the time I reached the ground floor, heavy snow had begun to fall. Cold wind sliced through my collar, and I couldn't stop shivering.

"What beautiful snow!"

The familiar voice belonged to Cynthia HensonMom's perfect child.

She strolled over in a mink coat, catching snowflakes in her palm. "Ten years ago, when Mom and Dad brought me home, it was snowing just like this."

My heart clenched.

Ten years ago, Dad told me to wait under a tree while he went to buy me roasted sweet potatoes.

I waited through the falling snow. I waited until dark. I waited until I couldn't feel my hands or feet anymore.

He never came back.

Now I knew why. They had gone to adopt Cynthia Henson.

"Mom and Dad said they'd spoil me like a princess!" she continued. "When I wanted to draw, they bought me hundreds of digital art tablets. When I wanted to learn music, every instrument appeared in our house the next day. When I wanted to get into a prestigious school, the invitation letter arrived that same afternoon."

"When I said I needed more spending money, three million dollars showed up in my account within half an hour."

Every word was a needle, piercing straight into my heart.

In that tiny, crumbling orphanage, all I could do was scratch pictures of a family of three into the dirt with pebbles.

All I could do was listen to piano music drifting over the wall from the church next door.

But I worked hard. I earned my own invitation to a prestigious school.

Ten years of working odd jobs while studying. My school uniform was the cleanest, nicest thing I owned.

The socks and sweaters Grandma Director knitted for me were my only source of warmth.

"I've been so blessed," Cynthia sighed contentedly. Then she turned to me, a smile playing on her lips. "What about you? Your parents must love you very much too, right?"

I saw the challenge glinting in her eyes.

I pressed my lips together and gripped the hem of my jacket.

"Cecilia Henson!"

After a few seconds of silence, Dad's voice cut through the snow. He was still wearing that old coat with holes in it, his hair a disheveled mess.

He walked straight toward me as if Cynthia didn't exist, draping his coat over my shoulders.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing out here in this cold?"

The guilt and tenderness in his eyes didn't look fake.

It only deepened my confusion.

Cynthia acted as though she hadn't noticed Dad at all. She sauntered toward the exit, but as she stepped down the stairs, she let out a sudden cry and pitched forward.

In less than a second, Dad threw himself across the ground, cushioning her fall with his own body.

"Thank you, sir. You must be a wonderful father!" Cynthia gushed with gratitude.

Dad beamed, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

The desperate longing for family that had burned in my heart, along with my last shred of doubt, scattered in the cold wind.

As my father approached again, I instinctively took half a step back.

He didn't notice anything wrong. He even smiled and said, "You see how kindhearted your dad is? How could I have possibly abandoned you just because you had oxygen deprivation at birth and were a little slow as a child?"

"It was the creditorsthey were relentless. We were afraid you'd get hurt."

"Ah!" He sighed heavily.

Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

But I no longer felt moved. Only silence remained.

He grabbed my hand.

Yet I couldn't feel the warmth and safety I remembered from childhood.

We entered the hospital room.

Mom immediately pulled me into her arms, her delicate hands stroking my frostbitten, cracked, rough cheeks.

Her eyes were red from crying as she blamed my father. "This is all your faultinvesting blindly with those people, racking up all that debt. Otherwise, why would our daughter have suffered like this?"

Ten years later, when we reunited at the school gate, she had held me just as tightly.

She had cried just like this.

I had almost believed every word.

"Honey, what are you standing there for? Give our daughter that beef and rib congee."

Mom shot Dad a look and pointed at the thermos on the table.

I froze.

That thermos was the one I had just dropped outside the hospital room door.

"It was left over from the patient next door. I couldn't bear to eat it myself."

Mom wiped her tears and smiled.

I was speechless.

They gave Cynthia every luxury.

But they picked up dirty congee from the floor to feed me.

And acted so loving while doing it.

Was I really that worthless in their eyes? Did I not deserve even one decent thing?

When Dad lifted a spoonful of congee to my lips, I didn't drink it. I just shook my head and said I wasn't hungry.

They didn't scold me. Instead, they asked with concern if I was feeling unwell, if that was why I had no appetite.

That afternoon, Mom checked out of the hospital.

She said staying was too expensive. She needed to save money for my tuition.

She said as long as I was happy, everything was worth it.

Home was a tiny rented room.

No heating. No air conditioning. The windows didn't even seal properly against the wind.

Honestly, I didn't care about any of that.

I just wanted a home.

For one fleeting moment, I thought the parental love I'd lost had finally returned.

I thought I could act spoiled.

I thought I had arms to lean on.

In the end, I still had nothing.

This wasn't the reunion I had longed for.

So standing at the doorway, I gathered my courage and said to my parents, "I... I want to go back to the orphanage."

They both froze, then their eyes turned red.

"We're sorry, Cecilia. We were wrong before. No matter how hard things got, we should never have abandoned you."

"Will you give us one more chance? We swear we'll take good care of you."

"We searched so hard to find you. If we had to be separated again, I... I don't know how I'd go on living."

Mom held me tight, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded.

"This is all my fault!"

Dad raised his hand and slapped himself across the face. "I was such a fool back then!"

"Cecilia, just give us a little more time. Let us prove our love for you, okay?"

The red marks from his fingers stood out clearly on his cheek.

That guilt didn't look fake.

I bit my lip. My heart softened. Maybe they really did have their reasons?

"Mom. Dad."

"Family shouldn't keep secrets from each other. So I don't want you hiding anything from me."

Ignoring their startled expressions, I walked into the apartment.

Tomorrow was New Year's Eve.

It was also the last chance I would give them.

I wanted to know everything.

The next morning.

I woke to find my parents bustling around the kitchen, making dumplingschive and egg filling, my childhood favorite.

"Cecilia."

Mom took my hand. "You were right last night. Family shouldn't keep secrets. We shouldn't have hidden this from you."

"We promised to spend the New Year with you, but we can't keep that promise."

"We found work out of town. One month. It'll be enough to cover your tuition."

I looked at her.

The light in my eyes dimmed.

I never expected this.

I'd waited up all night, only to be fed another lie.

I started crying from sheer frustration.

But my parents thought I was moved.

"Don't cry, sweetheart."

Dad reached over and patted my head, then pulled an old phone and a red envelope from his pocket, pressing them into my hands.

"The phone was donated by a charity. The password is your birthday."

"The red envelopeI saved up from working overtime. All night."

He made a point of emphasizing all night.

As if afraid I wouldn't appreciate the sacrifice.

"Cecilia, just bear with things for a little while."

Mom kept crying, putting on a show of how hard it was to leave.

I said nothing.

They didn't even stay to eat the dumplings with me. A phone call came, and they rushed out the door.

Leaving me alone in the cold, empty rental.

I sat down and noticed the red envelope felt wrong. I tore it open.

It wasn't money.

It was a photo of Dad, Mom, and Cynthia.

Behind them: a villa, the ocean, three radiant smiles.

I knew who had put it there.

Cynthia.

My parents only needed to squeeze the envelope once to notice something was off. They hadn't bothered.

I turned to the phone, wondering what else awaited me. I entered my birthday to unlock it.

Inside were photos and videos of Cynthia. Hundreds of them.

Documenting every year since the day my parents adopted her.

Birthday gifts that changed each yeardiamonds, designer bags, sports cars, a villa.

Red envelopes stuffed with gold bars, year after year.

Obscene luxury.

Another taunt. Cynthia making sure I understood.

Buzz buzz!

The phone vibrated. An incoming call.

I answered without thinking, and Cynthia's voice poured through.

"Do you know why Mom and Dad aren't spending the holiday with you?"

Blunt. Direct.

I froze, then the answer crystallized.

"They're traveling with you."

Cynthia let out a soft laugh. "So you finally understand where you stand with them."

"Stop dreaming about being some rich family's precious daughter. Stop clinging to my parents like a leech."

"You were oxygen-deprived at birth. Slow. Defective. How could you possibly represent the Henson family? How could you ever compete with me?"

Each word sliced through me like winter wind, chilling me to the bone.

"But... then..."

My voice shook. "Then why did they come back for me? Why would they"

"Guilt."

Cynthia's laugh turned mocking. "The richer people get, the more they fear karma. Understand?"

"Or maybe it's just pity."

I had no response.

"Keep the phone. Make sure to check the photos on the messaging app. See how much fun we're having."

She hung up.

I staggered backward and collapsed onto the floor. Everything inside me threatened to explode. I wanted to scream.

Instead, I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, forcing it all back down.

Eventually, I dragged myself to my feet.

Without them

I could survive on my own.

Sure, I was a little slow as a kidbut that wasn't my fault!

I worked hard to overcome it. I earned my way into an elite university with outstanding grades. I was leagues ahead of Cynthia.

Like every other child at the orphanage, I was one of Grandma's perfect kids.

After packing my things, I trudged through the wind and snow to the now-empty orphanage and lined up a few part-time jobs to prepare for college life.

As for tuitionmy grades had earned me a full scholarship.

I'd wanted to test my parents. They didn't have to give me a single cent. All I needed was some sign that they loved me.

Instead, they spun the same lies they had ten years ago.

But I wasn't a child anymore.

During those weeks of working odd jobs, I saw Cynthia's social media posts.

New Year's Eve.

My parents threw her a welcome-home banquet. Fireworks exploded across the skyall for her.

I was in a restaurant kitchen, scrubbing dishes. The owner took pity on me and pulled me aside to share some dumplings.

New Year's Day.

My parents took Cynthia hiking to a temple shrouded in mist at the mountain's peak, where they made wishes together.

I visited Grandma's grave.

Day two.

They cruised around the harbor on a yacht, sipping red wine.

I sold roasted sweet potatoes in the bitter cold.

Day three.

They went skiing.

Cynthia took a fall, and my parents fussed over her like she might break.

That same morning, I slipped on the icy road while pushing my vegetable cart to the market. I bit down on the pain, hauled myself up, and kept going.

One month.

The three of them lived it up without a care in the world.

I ran myself ragged.

The day before my flight, I bought a bouquet of carnations and laid them at Grandma's grave.

"Grandma," I whispered. "Someday I'm going to build a bigger placeone that can take in even more kids."

That same day, my parents texted me:

"We're sorry, Cecilia. We just couldn't scrape together enough for tuition and living expenses."

"Maybe defer for a year? Start next fall instead?"

I laughed coldly, didn't bother replying, and boarded my flight.

Orientation day.

I was hauling my suitcase toward the registration building when a luxury car came speeding up and cut me off.

Cynthia stepped out, laughing at something our parents said. All three of them looked like they'd just stepped out of a magazine spread.

I froze.

Our eyes met.

The smiles on my parents' faces turned to stone. "Cecilia?" my father stammered. "What are you doing here?"