My Parents Ditched Me at 18—Now They Want Cash for a Lie

Claire paced a glossy corridor, the air thick with wealth—polished floors, fancy scents—her new blazer crisp, nerves dancing. She’d prepped forever for this job interview, but her stomach churned. A sharp woman ushered her in, doubt in her stare, pegging Claire too green at 28. She lifted her chin, stepped into a luxe room—big desk, skyline views—and faced three execs.

The head guy waved her résumé, smooth, “You’re young—less experience.” Claire sat tall, “It’s not age—it’s hustle. I started at 18, no backup, built my life brick by brick.” She locked eyes, steady, and the vibe shifted. A woman grinned, the boss stood, hand out, “Welcome, Claire.” She shook it firm, heart soaring—she’d nailed it. At home, she burst in giggling, bag flying, Lisa toasting with wine, “Knew you’d snag it!” Claire ditched her heels, “They nearly aged me out.” Lisa laughed, “Now you’re golden—top job, top cash.” Claire nodded, softer, “Took a lot to get here,” flipping through mail—until a cream envelope stopped her cold. Her parent
s’ address, unseen in a decade.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Lisa leaned in, “Who’s that?” Claire’s throat tightened, “Mom and Dad.” She spilled it—18th birthday, bags packed, them saying, “You’re grown, go.” Lisa’s jaw dropped, “Harsh.” Claire ripped the letter—hospital bills, huge, for her dad. Fury surged. “Thought I was done,” she growled, driving to their faded house—same swing, same vibe. Her mom ran out, teary, hugging; Claire froze. “Dad?” she demanded. “Hospital—bad times,” her mom sighed.

Claire snapped, “Bad like tossing me out?” Her mom squirmed, “We tracked you—saw your win online, so proud.” Claire’s blood boiled, “You don’t get that. Why wait?” “Dad stopped me,” her mom whined, “He’s locked away, but pay via bank.” Suspicion gnawed. At the bank, the teller hesitated, “Not hospital—personal.” Claire’s world tilted—scam. She roared back, door crashing open, parents at cake, alive. “Liars,” she hissed. Her dad smirked, “We made you—pay up.” Her mom glared, “Don’t go.” Claire grinned, “Too late,” and slammed out, done forever.

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