Chapter 2

Bianca smiled sweetly at him. "Thanks for remembering that I can't handle spicy food."

Soon, Holden also casually shoved a large handful of skewers to me.

They were all spicy sausages, my absolute least favorite.

Bianca looked at Holden, her eyes shining. "Which school did you finally decide on?"

Holden's voice was steady. "I checked for you, and those few acceptances you have are all fine. As for my school..."

"Wherever you go, I'll go."

When he said that, there wasn't even a trace of hesitation in his voice.

But I remembered he had once said he wanted to get into Stanford with me.

I suddenly remembered the night after we took the SATs.

I had written down my answers from memory and excitedly ran to find Holden, wanting him to help me estimate my score.

He just gave it a rough glance before crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it into the trash can.

"The test is over. What's the point of checking answers and estimating your score now?"

"Your usual grades aren't top-tier, and your mindset isn't stable. Plus, you always get caught cheating on exams. You probably won't perform a miracle anyway."

"Instead of wasting time checking answers, you should go online and learn how to do your makeup and dress better. Make yourself look a bit prettier."

It turned out he had wanted to ditch me for a long time.

My thoughts snapped back to the present.

Bianca suddenly suggested a game of "I Have Something You Don't."

The game went on to the final round, leaving only Bianca and me.

A classmate nearby suddenly shouted to me, "Lucia, you're definitely going to win this round! You definitely have this thing, and Bianca definitely doesn't!"

Almost everyone present smiled knowingly.

Only I looked completely bewildered.

Soon, Bianca exaggeratedly traced the shape of my scar on her own face.

Then she put a finger down.

"I lose. You have a scar on your face, and I don't. You couldn't even think of that, idiot!"

I had clearly won the game, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to smile.

Holden looked at my expression, seeing that I was about to cry. His face stiffened, and his voice suddenly grew much louder.

"Alright, why bring up her scar out of nowhere? It's fine to talk about it behind her back, but who told you to say it to her face?"

I didn't participate in the rest of the games.

Someone rolled their eyes and called me a buzzkill, and I didn't argue back.

For the entire night, I sat quietly in the corner, watching this lively scene that I didn't belong to.

When the party broke up, a Rolls-Royce had parked outside at some point.

The middle-aged man in the driver's seat wore a sharp suit, exuding elegance in his every move.

Sitting in the passenger seat was Bianca's mom, Priscilla. She was incredibly well-maintained, clearly a woman who was pampered and cherished.

The noisy chatter outside gradually drew closer.

The man in the driver's seat got out of the car, carrying a huge pile of gift bags with a bright smile.

"You all must be Bianca's classmates."

"I'm Bianca's dad. Thank you for taking care of her during high school. These are just some small gifts. Bianca, come hand them out to everyone..."

A girl opened a gift box and screamed in excitement. "It's a Cartier rose gold bracelet! Bianca, your parents are so generous! This whole pile must have cost well over a hundred grand!"

The boys received luxury watches that cost at least eight thousand dollars each.

For a moment, all envious gazes landed on Bianca.

When it was finally my turn, Bianca rolled her eyes, her words laced with thorns.

"Dad, we're short one here!"

The man quickly pushed through the crowd, walked up to Bianca's side, and apologized to me. "Oh my, it's my oversight. I bought one short. Young lady, how about I write you a check..."

The moment our eyes met, his apology came to a dead halt.

I curled my lips in a mocking smile, my voice loud.

"No need... sir."

I bit out the last word heavily.

When I was five, it was also late at night like this.

I was kneeling on the floor, clinging to his leg.

Crying hoarsely, I begged him not to leave me behind.

"Lucia will be a good girl. Dad, please don't abandon me!"

"I'll be good at the new house. I'll do chores, wash my own clothes, and go to school by myself..."

"Please don't abandon me. Lucy is scared of being alone..."

But he mercilessly kicked me away.

My back slammed hard against the sharp corner of the coffee table, and the pain made me curl into a tight ball.

He looked down at me from above.

"I divorced your mom. If you see me on the street from now on, don't call me Dad."

"You remember this: I only have one daughter, and her name is Bianca."

In the second year after he abandoned me, clutching a year's worth of award certificates, full of hope, I took several buses to his company to find him.

At the entrance of his company, I saw him carefully arranging a princess dress studded with diamonds and pearls.

Before I could even feel happy, I heard his assistant flattering him with a smile.

"Bianca just casually mentioned she wanted a princess dress for her birthday gift, and you specially flew to Italy to have it custom-made. You really go all out for her."

He gently placed the dress into the bottom of the box.

"She wanted it. As her father, how could I say no?"

The tenderness and fatherly love in his eyes were things I had never experienced.

It turned out that the prerequisite to being loved wasn't excellence or good grades.

Bianca just had to stand there, and she won the whole world.

The award certificates I had protected in my arms the whole way suddenly felt ridiculous and pathetic.

Later, I went and changed my name.

I dropped my dad's last name and took my mom's maiden name.

It was the name my mom had given me.