chapter 5
My mother tried to appeal, but her request was denied.
That gave me enough time to finish all my passport paperwork. The moment everything was finally approved, I bought the nearest flight out.
On the day I went to the airport, I left early on purpose.
It still wasn’t early enough.
Somehow, she found out.
I had barely reached the security checkpoint when she charged over and blocked the entrance, hands on her hips, voice already rising for the whole terminal to hear.
“Zoe Parker, you’ve really grown wings, haven’t you? Sneaking off overseas behind my back?”
She planted herself directly in the way of other passengers.
“Was it easy for me to raise you alone? I gave birth to you, fed you, took care of you, and now that you’ve made money you want to abandon me? You even refuse to support your own mother. What kind of daughter does that?”
As she shouted, she actually managed to squeeze a few tears out.
Because some people waiting nearby had time to spare, they started whispering.
“So she raised her alone and now the daughter wants to dump her after getting rich?”
“That’s cold.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. The girl looks half-dead, not rich. The mom looks like she’s been eating just fine.”
The crowd thickened. The situation got messy fast.
Soon airport security approached.
“Ma’am,” one of the officers said carefully, “if you’re not boarding, please step aside to handle your personal matters. You’re delaying other passengers.”
I glanced at my mother and said flatly, “I’m trying to board. She’s the one preventing everyone else from getting through.”
The second she heard that, she threw herself onto the floor like a child and began kicking and rolling.
“Look! Look at the daughter I raised! She wants security to drag me away! I have high blood pressure—if I die right here, it’ll be exactly what this ungrateful girl wants!”
Her performance was so dramatic that even the officers looked helpless. Nobody dared lay a hand on her.
I checked the time and let out a quiet breath.
I wasn’t making that flight.
So I turned around, pulled my suitcase behind me, and left.
In the taxi back, my phone pushed a local news alert.
I clicked it open and nearly laughed.
The article was about my mother’s scene at the airport. The whole thing was so bizarre, and there had been so many bystanders filming, that the story had already started spreading online.
The comments were divided, but most people believed my mother. They decided I was some rich, heartless daughter who wanted to cut off the single mother who had raised her.
I still don’t know who taught her how to livestream, but by that afternoon a live video titled A Mother’s Honest Words After the Airport Incident was trending locally.
When I clicked in, she had a face filter on that made her look older and more worn down than she really was.
“My daughter has always loved shortcuts,” she said tearfully to the camera. “She got into a top school through luck and hit the jackpot through luck too. But what’s the point of money and education if you don’t respect your parents? A child who refuses to care for her mother is a disgrace to society. We even ended up in court because of it. All I wanted was for her to take care of me when I’m old. Was that so wrong?”
She carefully left out certain details, of course.
But people online weren’t all fools.
Before long, questions started popping up in the comments.
Wait. Are you saying someone can get into that university through luck?
Exactly. Since when can you randomly luck your way into one of the toughest schools in the country?
You mean she got questions she knew? Or maybe she knew the material because she studied it?
My mother visibly panicked.
“Yes, the exam just happened to include things she knew. Isn’t that luck?”
That only made the comments explode harder.
Lady, have you considered that maybe she knew all the questions because she knew all the material?
I’ve never heard anyone say someone got into a school like that by luck.
You’re lying.
Then people who actually knew me started showing up.
I was her classmate in high school. She was top ten in our grade every single month.
I’m one of her college classmates. I heard the story. Her mom only gave her a book of scratch-offs as living expenses for the whole semester, then started demanding money after she won. It’s insane.
My mother was one mouth against tens of thousands. She couldn’t keep up.
Within minutes, she ended the stream.
The public mood shifted just as fast.
Suddenly, everyone was mocking the absurdity of using scratch-off tickets as a child’s living expenses. For the first time in a long while, the tide turned in my favor.
That evening, she borrowed someone else’s phone and called me.
“Zoe, you have to understand your mother,” she said in a much softer voice. “It wasn’t easy raising you alone. I was always afraid you’d leave me the way your father did. Maybe the way I handled things was wrong, but all these years, I didn’t let you starve to death, did I? Letting strangers attack me like this isn’t very nice either.”
I let out a short laugh.
“Mom, I’m not going to abandon you. But what you asked for before—leaving me with only ten thousand dollars—is impossible. Studying abroad costs a lot. Still, I can give you living expenses every month. As long as you promise not to interfere with my education again.”
The second she heard that, excitement rushed into her voice.
“Of course, of course. No problem. Every month I need at least—”
I hung up before she could finish.
Then I bought another ticket.
This time, for the sake of money, she actually kept her promise.
She didn’t cause me any more trouble before I finally landed in the United States.