My Father Put a Price on Me

I received a text from my bank as soon as I went home for the holidays. "The $300,000 loan you applied for has been disbursed." I stared at the message in disbelief because I'd never once taken out a loan in my life. I checked my phone. Soon, more notifications kept popping up, informing me that my applications had been approved. I felt my blood turn to ice in my veins as I rushed into the living room. My father immediately pulled out an old ledger. "Freya, your mother died when you were young. It wasn't easy raising you all by myself. Now that I'm retired, I'm at the age when I need someone to support me. I know you don't have much money, so I used your ID to take out $300,000 in bank loans. "Consider it repayment for all the money I spent raising you!" he declared/ My heart lurched, and blood rushed to my head. I took the ledger and flipped through it. He'd itemized every expense down to the smallest detail. He'd even listed a pair of $9.90 canvas sneakers I'd worn in middle school. On the last page, he'd totaled everything in red ink to a little over $298,900. "I rounded it up to an even $300,000," he said imperiously, as if he'd done me a huge favor. I forced down my anger. "Why didn't you ask Kellan to support you? Shouldn't we each pay half of your living expenses?" He immediately slapped me across the face. "How can you compare yourself to Kellan? He's an Ashwood. Meanwhile, you're just an outsider who's going to marry into another family sooner or later!" For some reason, I found myself grinning at the insult. The next day, I contacted a real estate agent and listed my house for sale, and all the relevant paperwork was processed three days later. My phone wouldn't stop ringing that night as my father called me over and over again. Chapter 1 The Cost of Raising Me As I stood in the entryway, I stared at the text message with a frown on my face. I'd been working for years and had never borrowed money, much less taken out a loan. I continued to scroll through my phone. Soon, I received dozens of notifications, all informing me that my loan applications had been approved. A sudden, dreadful suspicion took hold. I was walking toward the living room, about to call out, "Dad, I'm home," when I saw him sitting at the dining table with an old-fashioned ledger in front of him. He sat there as if he'd been waiting for me to walk right into a trap he'd set. "Freya, your mother died when you were young. It wasn't easy raising you all by myself. Now that I'm retired, I'm at the age when I need someone to support me. I know you don't have much money, so I used your ID to take out $300,000 in bank loans. "Consider it repayment for all the money I spent raising you!" he declared. He casually opened the ledger and spread it out in front of me. My heart lurched. My fingers trembled as I took it from him. Every last expense was itemized in painstaking detail. "Freya's cold medicine: $200." "Freya's menstrual pads: $80 × 86 months = $6,880." "Extra egg with Freya's breakfast: $2 × 2,660 days = $5,320." And on and on it went. He'd listed everything down, from my hospital stays to the ginger, garlic, and scallions in my meals. He'd even included the $9.90 canvas sneakers I'd bought in middle school ten years ago. At the bottom of the last page, he'd written down the grand total in bold red ink. "$298,922.75." "Dad! Are you serious?" There was an unmistakable hint of bitterness in my tone. My father merely took a drag from his cigarette and slowly exhaled, speaking as if he'd done me an enormous favor. "I rounded it up to an even $300,000." I struggled to keep my anger in check. "Dad, how could you take out loans in my name without even telling me? That's illegal! And why didn't you ask Kellan to support you? Shouldn't we each pay half of your living expenses?" His eyes widened with fury as soon as I said that, and he slapped me across the face. "What do you mean, illegal? You owe me this money! It's only fair for you to pay back your dues! Besides, how can you compare yourself to Kellan? He's an Ashwood. You're just an outsider who's going to marry into another family sooner or later. "If I don't get my money's worth out of you now, who am I supposed to turn to once you're out of the door?" An outsider. I let out a bitter bark of laughter. After my mother died, my older brother, Kellan Ashwood, fled the household, leaving us to deal with his gambling debts. He'd stayed away from us for eight years now. During all those years, he ignored us and never once offered to help us out. Yet, my father was still worried that he would struggle to survive. So, he transferred $ 8,000 to Kellan from his pension every single month without fail. Meanwhile, I had no choice but to drop out of high school before graduating and move to the city to get a job, all to ease the family's financial burden. I sent my dad $30,000 every month to help cover his expenses. Chapter 2 The Daughter Who Didn't Belong Everyone in the village said my father was lucky to have such a devoted daughter in me. However, he had always scoffed at that. "What good is it for a girl to make money? It doesn't matter how much she earns because she'll end up belonging to her husband's family anyway. Having a son is better. I'm sure my son will be there to see me off when I'm on my deathbed. He's the only one who really matters!" Back then, I thought he was just being modest and making an offhand remark. I never imagined that he'd still see me as an outsider instead of his daughter after more than a decade of giving him everything I had. I stared at his self-righteous face, pressed a hand to my stinging cheek, and stormed back to my room. … That night, I was so anxious about the loan payments that my stomach started hurting. I got up to look for some medicine. Then, I heard Kellan's excited voice coming from my father's bedroom. "The demolition compensation is $2 million! That's a fortune. Dad, you're really giving it all to me?" "Of course. You're my only son. Who else would I give it to? You can pay off your gambling debts with that money, and then come home and get yourself a wife." Kellan chuckled, greed gleaming in his eyes. "But I'll need a house and a car to get married, Dad. What woman would want me otherwise?" My father laughed, completely convinced of his own twisted logic. "Freya can buy you a car. And we already have a house. I'll make Freya move out to make room for you when you come back. You can use this place as your marital home!" Laughter erupted from both ends of the call. I leaned against the hallway wall, feeling not unlike I'd been dunked in ice water. He'd taken out a $300,000 loan under my name without saying a word to me, yet I wouldn't get a single cent of the $2 million in demolition compensation. Even the house I'd bought with my own hard-earned money no longer had a room to spare for me. I let out a disbelieving laugh before returning to my room and making a phone call. "Cyrus, I'm moving out. I want to sell the house!" … I arrived at the real estate agency right on time early the next morning, as per my agreement with Cyrus. "Ms. Ashwood, it's currently the holidays, so used houses aren't selling as quickly. Do you have any specific requirements for the buyer?" Cyrus poured me a glass of water and opened his notebook. I handed him the property documents. "I only have two requirements. First, I need to sell it as soon as possible. Second, I want the payment to be in cash." He took the documents from me, looking momentarily surprised by my terms. "The cash part shouldn't be a problem, but… how quickly do you need to sell?" I smiled. "Preferably in three days. I'm willing to lower the price to make that happen." He parted his lips as if to ask something, but eventually decided against it. … After the appointment, I bought a voice recorder and several cameras at the market. I bumped into a little boy when I got home around noon. He fell onto his bottom and burst into tears. Before I could react, a familiar figure came bounding out of the living room. "Well, look who's back! Freya!" I looked up and saw Kellan. My older brother, who'd run away eight years ago to dodge his creditors, had suddenly returned. I didn't need to guess why. I glanced at him without saying a word before turning to the little boy still sniffling on the floor, intending to help him up. However, my father suddenly rushed at me and kicked me in the shin before I could reach out to help him out. The pain nearly brought me to my knees. "Are you blind? How dare you knock over my precious grandson!" I sucked in a sharp breath and stared at him in disbelief. "Grandson?" Kellan blew out a ring of smoke, looking as lackadaisical as ever. "My illegitimate son, Damian. He's seven." I let out a soft grunt, my face impassive as I trudged back to my room. As I passed the living room, I noticed the dining table was a complete mess. Lobster shells, crab legs, and scallop shells covered the entire table. Two empty insulated shipping boxes sat beside it. I hurried over and checked the shipping labels. That was when I remembered—I'd specifically asked a friend to have the seafood flown in from Avernon ten days ago. I'd planned to spend the holiday at home with my father and share a nice seafood dinner with him. After all, he'd never had the chance to enjoy much good food in his life. Well, so much for that. Now, all that remained were the shells. I stood by the table as a chill crept from my fingertips up my arms. "Dad, did you eat all this seafood?" He sat on the couch with his legs crossed, cradling Damian in his arms. He didn't even look up when I spoke. Chapter 3 The Last Piece of Her "We ate it. So what?" my father drawled. "I had that seafood flown in from Avernon. It must've cost at least $10,000. Yet, you couldn't even leave me a single bite?" My father looked up sharply before answering in a tone that made it seem as if his reasoning were perfectly sound. "Something that expensive would be wasted on someone like you! Kellan and Damian should eat it instead. "Damian's a growing boy, and Kellan's spent eight years struggling out there. He needs to eat well now that he's finally home!" I sneered at his response. I'd lost count of how many times I'd heard that excuse. Ever since I was little, Kellan would always get the first pick whenever there was anything good to eat at home. Once, my aunt brought home a box of pastries from out of town. I'd been craving them, so I ate two before anyone else could. My father became so furious that he locked me in a dark room and left me there to starve for three days. "You useless girl! Can't you control your appetite? Those were for Kellan! He works so hard at school. He needs good food to keep his brain sharp. What good would eating something that nice do for someone like you?" By the time my mother finally carried me out, I was crying despite being barely conscious and on the verge of death. My father merely sneered when he saw me. "What's with the pitiful act? Three days without food won't kill you. It'd be even better if you actually died." I dug my fingernails hard into my palms upon recalling that nightmarish memory. My father pursed his lips, scowling impatiently. "Enough already. Hurry up and clean this mess. Stop standing around and getting in everyone's way! I've got to take Damian out to buy him some toys in a bit." And so, he and Kellan promptly took Damian out. I bottled up my anger as I cleaned up the leftovers scattered across the dining table. Then, I installed the cameras I'd bought in the four corners of the house. … That evening, they returned with bags full of shopping. Kellan tossed a ridiculously long receipt at me as soon as they entered the living room. "Freya, here's the bill for everything we bought Damian today. It comes to $5,800. Look it over, and transfer the money to me if everything checks out." I kept my voice low, struggling to contain my anger. "Why should I be responsible for supporting your son?" My father's eyes widened. "Because you're an Ashwood, too! You're obligated to pay for my grandson's needs as long as you carry the Ashwood name!" I started shaking with rage. Before I could respond, a sharp crash came from my bedroom. I tensed and rushed toward the sound without thinking. I froze the second I pushed the door open. On the floor lay my mother's emerald bracelet, shattered into three pieces. It was the only thing she'd left me before she died. I'd been too afraid of damaging it to even think of wearing it, even after all these years. So, I'd wrapped it in red cloth and kept it in my drawer, taking it out to look at it whenever I missed her. Alas, there it lay, broken. The last thing I had left of her was gone. "Aunt Freya, this green bracelet wasn't any fun. It made such a loud noise when I smashed it!" Damian tilted his head and looked at me innocently. However, I noticed the barely concealed gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. My eyes reddened as I glared at him, my voice shaking with anger. "Who gave you permission to touch my things?" Damian flinched at my outburst. His lower lip trembled, and he burst into tears. My father was the first to rush into the room upon hearing him cry. He didn't even bother asking what had happened as he shoved me hard. "Freya, what did you do to him? Why's he crying like that?" I fell to the floor, my knee landing on the broken jade. A sharp shard cut into my skin. "Dad, he smashed Mom's bracelet…" My father glanced at the fragments on the floor, but his expression didn't change. "So what if it's broken? It's just some old bracelet. How much could it be worth? You're a grown woman. How can you hold a grudge against a seven-year-old? I promise you, you'll be answering to me if anything happens to Damian because you scared him!" Kellan wandered in behind him, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He took one look at the mess on the floor and sneered. "And here I thought something serious had happened. It's just a worthless old bracelet from a dead woman. So what? Good riddance. Maybe now you'll stop treating it like some priceless trinket. Just the sight of it screams bad luck." I remained kneeling on the floor, carefully clutching the three broken pieces of my mother's bracelet in my hands. … That night, I carefully wrapped the shattered bracelet and tucked it beneath my pillow. I didn't sleep a wink. Chapter 4 The House Is No Longer Yours My phone buzzed in the dead of night. I'd gotten a message from Cyrus. "Ms. Ashwood, a gentleman is willing to buy your house, but he'd like to inspect it before signing the contract. Would that be convenient for you?" I wiped the tears from my face and took a deep breath. I didn't even think twice as I replied, "That's fine. Anytime tomorrow works for me." … My father and Kellan took Damian to the amusement park bright and early the next morning. I messaged Cyrus as soon as they were out of sight. A black SUV pulled up outside the building less than 30 minutes later. A man in his 40s stepped out. He was dressed in a sharp suit and followed by two men who looked like his assistants. Cyrus introduced him as Elliot Nova, a businessman in the construction materials industry who had been looking for a house in the neighborhood. I gave them a quick tour. Elliot seemed quite pleased with the place. As he stood on the balcony to take in the sights, he smiled and said, "I especially like the layout and your choice of decor. They're pretty unique. Could I move in right away if we sign the contract today?" I smiled and nodded, signing the contract without hesitation. He paid the entire $3 million in cash, so I handed him the keys. I hurried back inside and packed a few things. My phone rang just as I was about to leave. I'd gotten a call from an unfamiliar number. "Am I speaking with Ms. Freya Ashwood? Your father has a bill of exactly $13,000 at our restaurant. He says it should be charged to your account. Would you be able to settle the bill now?" I scoffed. "I'm sorry, but I'm under no obligation to pay their bills." I hung up right after that. In the end, my father had no choice but to pay with his credit card. Sure enough, he called to berate me less than ten minutes later. "Freya! Are you asking for trouble? Get the hell out if you don't want to live in this family anymore! And don't ever come back! It's just as well. Kellan can use the house as his marital home. His date is coming over soon. So, hurry up, pack your things, and get out!" I almost burst out laughing at his audacity. I'd worked my butt off saving up to buy that house. So, why the hell should I give it to Kellan as his marital home? The whole thing was absurd. Still, I kept my expression neutral and agreed without a fuss. "Fine. I'm leaving right now." I hung up just as Elliot's belongings arrived, packed in bags and boxes and delivered by a moving crew. I exchanged a few words with him, grabbed my luggage, and walked out. … Meanwhile, Kellan sounded puzzled as he spoke to my father. "Dad, what's gotten into Freya today? She agreed way too easily." My father snorted. "What's she going to do, refuse? I raised her to support you. That house belongs to you! You're the only son in the Ashwood family!" "True…" Kellan paused. However, his tone quickly brightened. "So, Dad, should I bring Lily over now? She's waiting at the mall." "Go on! Pick her up and bring her over to see the house. Mrs. Thorne says she's a good catch. Your marriage might as well be a done deal if she finds the house to her liking." … A cab pulled up at the entrance to the complex 40 minutes later. Kellan jumped out first and hurried to open the back door, helping a young woman in a dress out of the car. "This neighborhood looks a little run-down," Lily murmured, frowning as she looked around. "Older buildings have their advantages! You get more usable space!" My father got out of the front passenger seat with Damian in his arms, a broad smile plastered across his face. "It's 1,300 square feet, way better than those tiny shoebox apartments people build these days! You should come in and take a look at it. My daughter spent a fortune renovating it. I'm sure you'll love it." When they arrived at the fourth floor, my father grinned as he pulled out his keys and slid one into the lock. Unfortunately, his keys refused to budge no matter how hard he tried. He bent down to inspect the keyhole when the door suddenly swung open from the inside. A sharply dressed man stood there, a cigarette held between his fingers. "Who are you looking for?" My father stood frozen, his mouth hanging open.