Living Boldly in the LightChapter 1

I am the child of a mistress.

When I was seventeen, my biological father passed away.

At the funeral, dressed in my school uniform, I faced a room full of financial titans, brilliant young scientists, and a reigning movie star. My voice trembled as I spoke:

“I… I’ve come to claim my inheritance…”

Before I could finish, the legitimate children all stared at me, their gazes like daggers.

I burst into tears.

“N-no… it’s okay if you don’t give it to me…”

The movie star’s eyes lit up. “A sister? A soft, little sister?”

The young scientist pulled out a notepad and pen. “Senior year? Come solve some calculus, let’s see where you’re at.”

The titan pulled out a black card. “What’s there to care about that old man’s meager money? Call me ‘brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times that.”

* * *

My mother was a master manipulator, a gilded cage bird kept by a wealthy man.

The arrangement was simple: he’d provide the money, she’d provide the charm. A clean transaction, no strings attached.

But too many good days often breed greed.

She got pregnant, and, emboldened by her growing belly, pulled a ‘gilded cage bird runs off with the heir’ stunt.

Before she disappeared, she broadcast her address widely, practically begging to be found.

She fantasized about her patron locking down the entire city, pursuing her with possessive passion.

She imagined his wife, consumed by insecurity, collapsing and willingly stepping aside.

Alas.

She overplayed her hand.

Her patron didn’t even bother to look for her.

He didn't want her, or the child she carried.

This simply wouldn't do!

She, with her full-term belly, blocked his mansion’s entrance.

Two bodyguards lifted her out, tossing her into a dumpster.

They also delivered a message from his wife:

“If you’re so capable, take him. But give me the child to raise once it’s born. Money? Not a single penny!”

After her desperate pleas failed, she finally gave up.

But the child couldn't be aborted.

Filled with resentment, she gave birth to me and raised me haphazardly.

Not out of love, but solely for money.

The phrase she repeated most often to me was:

“You’re his blood. He thinks he can just refuse to give us anything?”

“Dream on! Even if he dies, you’ll get your share of that estate!”

As she wished, in my seventeenth year, my biological father died.

Upon hearing the news, she swiftly deposited me at the funeral home.

“Skye, listen up! Including you, your father only has four children! You get a quarter of his inheritance!”

“Today is your last chance. If you don't get that money, don’t bother coming back to see me!”

Her contorted features terrified me.

“Mom, don’t leave me here, I’m scared…”

“Scared, scared, always just scared! What did I raise you for? To make money!”

“For all these years, you’ve eaten my food, used my things, and kept me from finding someone else. Don’t I deserve compensation?”

“Get the inheritance, give it to me, and then I’ll still be your mom!”

She hurried a few steps away, then stopped abruptly.

Turning back, she rummaged through my pockets, taking my only ten dollars.

I froze.

Without money, I couldn’t take the bus.

From this funeral home in the middle of nowhere, it would take me until dark to walk back home.

She shoved me. “Cut off your retreat, and you’ll work harder!”

“If you get the money, take a cab home. If not…”

She gestured vaguely at the surrounding hills.

“This whole area is a graveyard. Just stay here and keep the ghosts company!”