Family First? Nah. Revenge First. Welcome to My Heatwave Trap! Chapter 06

Family First? Nah. Revenge First. Welcome to My Heatwave Trap! Chapter 06

After dinner, the sky slowly darkened, but the temperature kept climbing.

Ryan, who was overweight, complained he was dying of heat even under the AC.

He finally couldn’t take it and ran to the bathroom to shower.

Then Brooke, Tyler, and my parents did the same.

The moment they finished, Brooke dragged Ryan into my master bedroom.

“Sis, we don’t like the small room. This master bedroom is ours now.”

She didn’t wait for an answer and shoved me out the door.

As I glanced toward the guest room, Tyler sprayed me with a water gun.

“Stupid aunt, Mom says this house is mine. You’re not allowed in here.”

I ignored the brat and walked to the living room.

Dad was sprawled on the sofa in just his boxers.

When he saw me, he said, “You useless girl, I don’t like wearing clothes to sleep. You’d better not stay in the living room.”

I stared at him. “Then where am I supposed to sleep?”

Mom hurried over with a troubled look. “Emily, the place is too small. There’s really nowhere for you. Why don’t you sleep on the balcony? It’s more open there.”

They were trying to force me onto the balcony again.

Last time they had locked me out there. I nearly died from the heat.

The suffocating thirst rose in my throat once more.

I looked at the parents who had given birth to me but never shown me any real love. “Sleep on the balcony? It’s scorching out there. Aren’t you afraid I’ll die?”

Mom rubbed her hands together. “The balcony’s just a little hot. No one dies from that.’

“Emily, it’s my fault for not controlling your brother and Brooke. They took your room. If it’s too uncomfortable, why don’t you just stay at a motel?”

She transferred fifty dollars to me.

Mom was the only one in the family who occasionally showed me any kindness.

But last time, when they forced me to go buy groceries, she had handed the knife to my brother. She was afraid her precious grandson would go hungry.

Fifty dollars wasn’t nearly enough for a motel.

Last time I had stubbornly refused to leave, thinking it was my own apartment.

In the end they drove me out and I died on the street.

This time, since they wanted me gone, I would go.

I looked at this cold, shameless family and said, “Fine. I’ll leave.’

I pulled out my suitcase and started packing my things.

Then I loaded all the food and drinks I had stocked into the suitcase too.

Brooke watched me the entire time. Seeing I was only taking cheap food, she didn’t stop me.

She just mocked me for being a poor cheapskate who fought over a few packs of noodles.

I ignored her yapping, finished packing, and walked out without looking back.