I learned very early that my relationship with my parents was merely transactional.

  I stayed out of their lives and in turn they gave me just enough money to live quietly. Wiring over money was easier than caring for a child you didn't want after all.

  This was because I was the step-daughter of a rich conglomerate CEO.

  If the genre of my life was different to what it is, I'd probably be the protagonist of a tragic webtoon. The sweet, kindhearted female lead; parents tragically dead and mistreated by her evil step family; who had a knight in shining armor to rescue her out her misery or a fairy godmother to whisk her to a fantasy land where she got a happily ever after.

  In truth, my life deviated completely from that kind of sparkly plot.

  My father passed away when I was at the ripe age of 6. I frankly don't remember much about him; no inspirational words, no happy memories. I could barely remember what he looked like. And I didn't care either, as I rarely saw him at home.

  I never really missed him though. As said already; I barely remembered anything about him, so it was hard for me to really feel any grief or sadness.

  Right after he had died, my mother remarried. I had learned she was actually seeing my step-father while my father was still alive, and she had planned to divorce him and dump me behind, finally being able to fulfil her dream of lounging around doing nothing all day. When he had instead died, she had to take me with her.

  We moved in with him, and when it was apparent her new husband didn't want to bear the burden of another child that wasn't his. Coupled with the fact that his existing children didn't take a liking to me and the apparent 'bad rep' that I would bring onto his business if the media found out about me made them even more adamant about sending me away.

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  Even though I no longer lived inside a small closet of an apartment with my mother and I had a decent home, I was still treated no better than a street urchin crawling for scraps. I wasn't allowed to go to school for fear of the press finding out and was instead homeschooled. I wasn't allowed to even eat with them at dinner and just had meals sent to my room where I stayed most of the time, studying away the hours because I really had nothing better to do.

  So when I finally turned 13 my mother was finally able to fold me out of the picture; sending me away like an embarrassing document better left unfiled. It felt like the only proof I was even living to them was the bank statement that came with every month attached to the sum of cash.

  So I lived somewhere else.

  Inside gacha games I could interact with others and choose who I wanted to be. Inside cheesy fantasy isekai web-stories where girls like me were important to the plot and amassed huge harems and were beloved by all; where I could imagine a better life for myself where people paid more attention to me.

  At school, reality finally caught up.

  Some bastard with all the time in the world had decided to put a target on my back as I was the smartest in the school yet I barely talked to anyone. He had searched up my name and dug around until he found a record of my father's death and spread it around the whole school.

  Be careful of what you wish for I guess.

  Since my mother had made the bright decision of changing her name when she remarried none of them really knew that I now technically had a step-father that made more money than they ever would in their lives every day.

  I tried to steel myself, telling myself that they were just jealous but it chipped away at me slowly. I endured it the best I could.

  So, here I am now.

  I finally snapped in my first year of high school. I just couldn't take it anymore. It felt like the only way I could get their eyes off me was if I disappeared entirely. So I finally begged my mother for a transfer. A new school in a new country was a lot cheaper than therapy and a whole lot less scandalous than what would happen if I spoke out.

  'Neglected step-daughter of one of the biggest CEOs in the country bullied at school that she was sent away to be forgotten at'

  I managed to qualify for a merit based scholarship at some international school in an entirely new country abroad. I was practically jumping with joy, a new chance to escape from this hell.

  Suitcase stuffed with my meagre belongings in hand, I made my way to the school's large front gates; my shabby clothes out of place against the expensive, modern looking facility.

  Well I guess this is it. I took a breath and entered through the sliding glass doors, bracing myself for what's to come.