It was Christmas Eve, and my parents ditched me again.
Triple holiday pay, they said.
For twenty years, this had been their excuse.
But not this year.
I wasn’t spending another Christmas alone, staring at the blinking lights of our plastic tree.
I grabbed a casserole dish of mac and cheese I’d made earlier and decided to go find them.
When I found them, I froze.
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The same parents who claimed they were “grinding to make ends meet” stepped out of a shiny black Mercedes, laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world.
Flanked by a guy about my age, they strolled arm in arm into a five–star restaurant like they owned the place.
“Seriously, Mom? Dad?” I called out, my voice shaking as I ran up to them.
“You’re just leaving me alone on Christmas for this?”
Mom didn’t even flinch.
“Oh, Emma, sweetie, you’re fine. You’ve always been fine.”
Dad, on the other hand, shrugged.
“Emma, Jason’s different. He’s our golden boy. You know that.”
I couldn’t process it. Jason?
Who the hell was Jason?
I didn’t wait for an explanation.
I turned on my heel and walked away.
If they wanted to live their lives playing pretend, fine.
I didn’t need their fake love anymore.
After hanging up the phone, Dad walked over to me, pulling a crisp $50 bill out of his wallet. “Emma, something came up at work. I’ve got to head out.”
Mom gave me her usual reassuring smile.
00:06
Reborn, My Family Tried to Bury Me, So I Burned It All Down!
85.8%
Chapter 1
It’s okay, sweetle. I’ll go with you to Grandpa’s. We’ll still have a nice time.”
I nodded, taking the money and slipping it into my coat pocket without much thought.
Then I followed Mom out the door, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in my gut.
When we got to Grandpa’s place, the warmth of the house hit me like a blanket.
Grandpa opened the door and pulled me into a tight hug the moment he saw me.
“Emma! There you are! Come on in–it’s freezing out there.”
His hands felt soft and smooth, nothing like the rough, calloused hands you’d expect from someone who supposedly worked in a steel mill his entire life.
The house was cozy, the kind of place you’d expect for a retired blue–collar worker.
Grandpa always said he’d worked himself to the bone to provide for the family.
But as I looked around, noticing the pristine furniture and the faint smell of fresh–baked bread, I couldn’t help but feel like something didn’t add up.
Grandma bustled in from the kitchen, beaming.
“There’s my girl! Merry Christmas, Emma,” she said, handing me a little card.
Thanks, Grandma,” I said, tucking the card into my pocket.
I knew what was inside–probably a crisp $20 bill, the same as every year.
But this time, I didn’t automatically hand it over to Mom like I used to.
Mom watched me with a flicker of surprise in her eyes.
Usually, I’d give her the money without hesitation, and she’d pat me on the shoulder and say, “Emma’s always been so thoughtful.”
Not today.
Even Grandma paused for a moment, then chuckled.
“Well, looks like Emma’s finally keeping her Christmas money. Good for you, sweetheart!”
I forced a small smile.
“Mom says it’s time for me to start saving for myself. New year, new habits, right?”
Mom’s smile tightened, but she didn’t say anything.
Grandma nodded approvingly.
00:06
Reborn, My Family Tried to Bury Me, So I Burned It All Down!
86.1%
Smart girl. You’ve always been so responsible. Paying for your own school and everything.”
Her words stung more than I expected.
I’d been paying for everything–tuition, rent, food–since I turned 18. And for what?
To help out my “struggling” parents while they drove around in luxury cars and laughed over five–star dinners?
Grandma disappeared into the kitchen to finish lunch, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
When we sat down to eat, the meal was exactly what you’d expect–roast beef, mashed potatoes, and a green bean casserole.
But as soon as I took my first bite, I froze.
The roast beef tasted exactly like the one I’d seen at that five–star restaurant last night.
I put my fork down, my appetite gone.
They’d been lying to me this whole time. About everything.
After lunch, Mom’s phone buzzed, and she excused herself, claiming she needed to take a work call.
Grandpa and Grandma started yawning, making it clear that it was time for me to leave.
I grabbed my coat and walked out the door, but I didn’t go far.
Instead, I slipped around the corner and waited.
Sure enough, less than twenty minutes later, a black stretch limousine pulled up in front of the house.
A group of people–drivers, assistants, maybe even security–swarmed the front porch.
Grandpa and Grandma stepped out like they were Hollywood royalty, laughing as they climbed into the car.
They didn’t even look back.
I stayed hidden, watching as the limo disappeared down the street.
After they were gone, I walked back toward the house.
A couple of cleaning staff were standing by the curb, chatting while they worked.
This family’s so weird,” one of them said, shaking her head.
They show up once a year, cook a meal, and leave like they’re playing house or something.”
“Yeah, but the tips they leave? Insane,” the other replied.
“You know they’ve got a mansion up in Crestwood Hills, right? This place is just for show.”
00:06 0
Reborn, My Family Tried to Bury Me, So I Burned It All Down!
86.3%
“It’s like some rich people fantasy to pretend they’re middle–class.”
Hearing that, my stomach twisted into knots.
They’d be playing me for years.
All those nights when they said we couldn’t afford anything, when I skipped meals to save money for tuition–they’d been living a lie.
I hopped on my bike and headed toward Crestwood Hills, my heart pounding with every turn of the pedals.
When I finally got there, I stopped at the base of a winding driveway.
The mansion was massive, perched on a hill with a view of the entire city. The sprawling lawn was perfectly manicured, and the whole place was surrounded by a high, wrought–iron fence. Security guards stood at the gate, watching every move.
I started walking toward them, but the second they saw me, one of them stepped forward, barking.
“Hey! This is private property. Turn around and leave.”
I clenched my fists, taking a shaky breath as I turned to go.
That’s when I heard it–the low rumble of a motorcycle.
A sleek black Ducati roared past me and through the gates, the rider barely glancing in my direction.
I knew that bike.
It was all over Instagram–custom–built, worth at least $200,000.
And the rider?
Jason Blake.
I stared after him, the pieces finally clicking into place.
So, this was the life my parents had been hiding from me.
And apparently, Jason was at the center of it.
00:06
