The sprawling executive office felt cavernous around us. My parents stared at me, their expressions carved from stone.
Just like when my sister was bullied at school because of their "character-building poverty" experiment. Just like when she jumped off that building.
All they'd given her were those same cold, hollow words.
"Weak-willed. Can't handle a little hardship."
"So mentally fragile. Making a fuss over nothing."
Antonia died believing our family was destitute. She didn't want to be a burden.
She never knew it was all a performance.
My nails dug crescents into my palms. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.
Every word came out measured, deliberate.
"This is my kidney. I won't give it to anyone."
"If you try to forfeit it in my name as my parents—then we're done. I'll sever all ties with you."
I turned and walked toward the door without hesitation.
I'd barely reached it when a crystal ashtray exploded against the frame.
Glass shards sprayed across my cheek, slicing skin.
Behind me, their voices erupted.
"Have you lost your mind?!"
"Who gave you the nerve to threaten to cut ties with us?!"
"Penelope, if you walk out that door, you won't see a single cent of the family fortune!"