The Princess They made Me Out To Be, The Starving Girl I Was Chapter 08
Bertrand slid a stack of documents across the table toward
Thomas: repayment agreement, revocation of fund authority.
public correction statement, asset recovery authorization,
and notice of potential legal consequences.
Thomas flipped through a couple of pages, his fingers
shaking. “Miranda, are you truly going through with this?”
Mom answered without hesitation. “Yes. You let my daughter
go hungry for years. Now I only demand that you pay back what you stole.”
Thomas gritted his teeth. “I am her father!”
Mom stared coldly back at him.
Does being a father give you the right to steal your
daughter’s living money and buy a condo for your stepson?
Does being a father give you the right to let her agonize over
every dollar spent on a one–dollar breakfast? Does being a
father give you the right to lie and tell her her own mother can’t stand her?”
Thomas fell speechless.
Lidia shot up, voice shrill. “The apartment can’t be seized! It’s
for Seth’s future marriage!”
Mom smiled, sharp and weary. “My daughter once nearly had
no dinner at all, and you worry about your son’s wedding?
Lidia, you planned every angle perfectly.”
Bertrand turned the page. “A temporary asset freeze has been
filed on the condominium. We’re gathering evidence for
unused spa balances; funds paid to prep schools, tutors, and
travel agencies will be recovered where legally possible.”
Seth panicked. “Why come after me?”
The source, transfer notes, and improper use are clearly
documented,” Bertrand replied steadily. “If negotiation fails, a lawsuit follows.”
Thomas twisted to look at me, wearing that familiar
disappointed stare as if I were tearing the family apart.
Hazel, can you watch your father be pushed into this? I
carried you to the hospital with fever. I attended your first
parent–teacher conference. Have you forgotten?”
I met his eyes. I hadn’t forgotten the candy he once bought
me, or how he lifted me after I scraped my knees.
But I also remembered the year I turned seventeen, when a
toothache swelled half my face and I begged him for $200 to see a dentist,
He had said, “You just crave sweets and eat too much candy.”
That night, I held ice water in my mouth until dawn to dull the throbbing pain.
remembered my first severe low–blood–sugar episode in
college, when I nearly fainted and called him for help.
His first words were, “Don’t embarrass yourself on campus.”
Most vivid of all were the lines he typed every month right
after sending my $300 transfer: [Your mother’s money doesn’t grow on trees.]
I spoke slowly. “The kindness you showed me doesn’t erase the lies you told me.”
Being my father doesn’t grant you permission to take the
money meant to feed and support me.”
His lips turned pale.
I kept going. “You made me believe Mom didn’t love me.
Made me think I deserved hunger. Gave me $300 to survive
while insisting I spent too freely.”
I paused. “Dad, the truth is, you never treated me like your daughter at all.”
Only the whirring cameras broke the silence.
Bertrand pushed a pen across. “Sign and repay as agreed.
Refuse, and we file a police report with full evidence.”
Thomas sat rigid for a long time,
At last, he picked up the pen, hand trembling violently as he signed.
Lidia wept beside him. “Thomas, what will become of Seth now?”
Mom looked straight at her. “You’re worried now? Where was
this worry when my daughter went to bed hungry night after night?”
Once signed, Mom transferred a large sum of money directly into my bank account.
My phone buzzed with the alert. I tapped the notification open.
The figure was so large it felt alien.
Memo: [Living expenses, medical care, and retroactive support for Hazel.]
My first feeling wasn’t joy. It was fear.
Mom, this is far too much.”
Tears welled again in Mom’s eyes. “It’s not too much. Every
cent belongs to you.”
You don’t have to earn it. It’s not charity. Spend it on meals,
doctors, clothes–anything. You no longer need to starve toprove you’re sensible.”
I stared down at the screen. Tears splashed over the long string of numbers.
In the past, checking my balance brought gnawing anxiety-
terrified the money would vanish, terrified of having no food tomorrow.
I still felt afraid now.
Yet beneath the fear, a faint warmth slowly unfurled inside
my chest, like a bowl of hot food finally placed in front of me
after years of hunger.