My Evil Mother and Favored Sister
He pushed the application back to me and sighed, Lisa, think about it again. You just got promoted to department supervisor last year, the team has barely gelled, and you've been at this job for five years.
I pushed the application back again and shook my head.
The stomach cancer diagnosis paper in my pocket, its edges crumpled from my tight grip, weighed ten times heavier than the supervisor's plea.
While clearing out my desk, Sophie from the next cubicle ran over and handed me a bag of supplements.
She shoved the bag into my purse and said, "Last time your mom came to the office with an umbrella, she looked really frail. Don't try to tough it out caring for her. If you need anything, just let us know."
Clutching that bag of protein powder, my nose went sour, and I couldn't even say a proper "Thank you."
On the way to the hospital by taxi, the driver noticed me staring at the thermos and said, "Going to the inpatient ward at the First Hospital of A City? It's hard to drop you off there. I'll take a shortcut—it'll save about ten minutes."
I nodded and then lifted the lid of the thermos.
The millet porridge was thick and sticky, with a few goji berries floating on top. My mother Daisy Liebes has bad teeth and she can't eat anything hard.
At the ward door, voices drifted out—it was Daisy and Mrs. Sheen from the clinic.
"Lisa in my family is just a worthless loser." Daisy's voice was dripping with smug pride.
My steps froze, the thermos handle digging painfully into my palm.
Mrs. Sheen chuckled: "Your youngest daughter Cindy is really thoughtful. Last time I saw her bring bird's nest soup, the packaging was so fancy."
"That's right!" Daisy 's voice rose, "My elder daughter quits her job to take care of me? I think she's just scared I'll give the retirement savings to Cindy—already eyeing my coffin money!"
Their laughter echoed inside, stabbing my ears like needles.
I stood outside the door, waiting until the laughter died down before reaching out to push it open.
Daisy saw me, still wearing that smug look that hadn't quite faded, and quickly got up to take my bag: "It's cold outside, isn't it? Rub your hands quickly. I was just telling Mrs. Sheen you were coming."
I set the thermos on the bedside table and didn't take her bag.
"Mom, I heard everything you just said."
Daisy's hand froze mid-air, her eyes flickered, then she reached out to grab my arm: "Oh, silly. I was just joking with Mrs. Sheen! She's jealous because I have two daughters, she was teasing me on purpose."
Mrs. Sheen quickly tried to smooth things over: "Yeah, Lisa, I was just joking with your mom. Don't take it to heart."
I said nothing and turned to walk toward the nurses' station.
The nurse saw me and immediately pulled out a bill: "Miss Walker, your mom still needs this treatment. The account doesn't have enough money now; you'll need to pay an extra twenty thousand dollars."
I stared at the numbers on the bill, my fingers trembling uncontrollably.
For these three months, I slept on a fold-out bed in the hospital room every night, spent the days bringing water, feeding medicine, washing her body and face, and stayed up all night watching the IV drip until dawn.
But in my mother's eyes, I'm just a loser who only wants money.
I pulled my salary card out of my wallet and handed it over: "Please help me cancel the payment, just transfer the remaining balance back."
The nurse held the card, momentarily stunned: "Is the cost too high? Should I talk to the doctor to see if they can adjust the medication?"
I shook my head, my voice a little hoarse: "No need, there are things I have to handle at home, I'll arrange the rest later."
As I walked out of the nurses' station, the surveillance camera on the wall had its red light blinking.
On a whim, I went to the head nurse's office: "Could you please pull the surveillance footage from the past three months? I want to see how my mother's been lately."
The head nurse hesitated for a moment, then clicked on the video: "Mrs. Liebes has been coming by a lot lately to chat with us about her kids, saying her youngest daughter is especially devoted."
On the screen, Daisy visits the nurses' station every Wednesday, holding a photo of my sister Cindy.
"Look, my youngest daughter bought me another gold bracelet—it just arrived yesterday."
The nurse smiled and praised Cindy's thoughtfulness, but when it comes to me, she just sneered, "Lisa? She only knows how to make some porridge, doesn't even buy imported fruit. She's no comparison to Cindy."
In the surveillance footage, her eyes are squinted with a big smile, waving the package receipt Cindy sent her.
I stared at the screen, feeling the warmth inside me slowly ebb away.
So all those three months of me caring for her day and night meant less to her than even a single delivery from Cindy.
The day Daisy was discharged, I went to clean up the apartment she was renting.
I pushed the door open and was hit by a foul stench; the takeout containers on the table were moldy—she clearly hadn't lived there in a long time.
I opened the wardrobe—it was stuffed with faded old clothes, all things I had bought for her over the years.
My hand reached all the way to the bottom and touched something hard—I pulled out a book, which turned out to be the property deed for our old family home, its cover yellowed with age.
Flipping to the first page, the transfer date clearly stamped last winter, and in the payee account section, Cindy Walker's name was written.
On his deathbed, my grandfather grasped my hand and said the house would go to me. My mom Daisy was right there, nodding and saying it was definitely meant to stay.
It turned out she had already sold the house, and all the money went to Cindy.
My phone suddenly buzzed and heated up — it was a message from the family group chat.
My Aunt, Uma, was the first to jump in: "Lisa, how can she be so unfilial? Her mom's in the hospital and she actually withdrew the medical fees. If this gets out, our family will be completely ruined!"
My uncle, Zane, immediately sent a voice message, his voice loud: "Exactly! How can a daughter treat her mom like this? When I was taking care of my mom, I never once complained about changing her diapers or helping her with anything. But Lisa? She even dares to throw tantrums!"
Another aunt, Rue, jumped in: "Apologize to your mom right now, or no relatives will acknowledge you. Let's see how you're going to live from now on!"
I stared at the screen, my fingers as cold as ice.
Then my cousin Sue sent a message: "Auntie, Uncle, I went to the hospital last weekend and saw Lisa by the bedside all night, her eyes red from staying up. It's not the truth that she doesn't care about her mother."
Uma shot back immediately, "You know nothing! She's just pretending for the nurses; deep down, she's probably still after her mother Daisy's retirement savings. Don't let her fool you!"
I took a deep breath and hit "Leave Group Chat." When the confirmation popped up saying "Are you sure you want to leave?" my finger paused for two seconds, but I pressed it anyway.
Just as I slipped the phone into my pocket, it started vibrating wildly, the screen flashing Daisy's name.
I stared at those two characters, remembering her voice outside the ward calling me a "loser," and didn't answer.
The ringtone stopped and rang again, repeating several times before finally going quiet.
I stuffed the property deed into my bag, locked the door, and headed downstairs.
Just as I reached the unit door, our neighbor Mrs. Upton grabbed me, lowering her voice: "Lisa, your mom's been telling us that Cindy bought a big apartment downtown and will be moving there next month. She also said you don't understand things—that you're not as thoughtful as the younger daughter."
I tugged the corner of my mouth but said nothing.
She patted my arm again. "Don't take it to heart. Your mom's just getting confused. We all see how good you've been to her."
Back at the rented apartment, I spread the property deed out on the table, took pictures of it with my phone, then opened Cindy's Twitter: "When are you planning to pay back the money from the ancestral home?"
She took almost an hour to reply, her tone full of contempt: "Lisa, what are you talking about? Our mom gave me that money willingly; why should I pay you back? Besides, didn't you quit your job to take care of mom just to grab that money? Now that you didn't get it, you're already lost your temper?"
I stared at that message, my fingers clenched so tightly they turned white, then I closed the chat window.
So she had been conspiring with Daisy all along—this fight was only just beginning.
The next day, I saw a video online.
In the video, Daisy was sitting on the hospital bed, crying.
Cindy stood beside her, holding a mobile phone and recording.
"Hi everyone, I'm Cindy Walker. My sister Lisa Walker didn't take care of our mother Daisy Liebes when she was sick — she even took the money from our home."
Daisy went on, "I don't have money for treatment right now, and Lisa's ignoring me. Please, help me."
The comments below the video had already blown up.
"Lisa is so heartless! How could she treat her own mother like that?"
"Expose her! Make her come out and apologize to her mother!"
Reading those comments, a chill ran down my spine.
Before long, my mobile phone wouldn't stop ringing.
Unknown numbers called, and they started by cursing at me.
"Lisa, you are inhuman!"
"Give your mom the money, or we won't let you off."
I put my phone on silent and set it aside.
In the afternoon, someone knocked on the door. I peeked through the peephole and saw my mother, Cindy, and a few strangers.
I didn't open the door, but they started banging on it.
"Lisa, come out!"
"Pay up quietly, and maybe we'll let you show your face!"
I grabbed my phone and started recording.
Then, I called the police.
When the police arrived, Daisy suddenly dropped to her knees.
"Lisa, I was wrong. Can you forgive me?"
She was crying her heart out, like she had been gravely wronged.
Cindy wiped tears away beside her and said, "Lisa, just forgive mom. Let's keep our family whole."
I raised my phone, pointing it at them.
"Sir, please look closely—it was them who came to threaten me."
Just then, Cindy's LV bag slipped, and a piece of paper fell out.
It was a forged loan contract with my name on it.
I quickly picked it up and handed it to the police.
"This contract is forged—they're trying to scam me out of my money."
Daisy and Cindy's faces instantly went pale.
As the police took them away to investigate, Daisy kept shouting, "Lisa, I hope you rot in hell!"
I closed the door, slid down against it, and collapsed on the floor, while the online attacks kept pouring in.
Someone found my new address and plastered my photos all over the building's entrance.
I drew the curtains and locked myself inside my room.
Even though it hurts, I know I can't give up.
A week later, Daisy was released from the police station.
She called me, her voice gentle.
"Lisa, I know I was wrong. Why don't you let me move in with you? I'll make it up to you."
I stayed silent for a long time.
I knew she didn't have good intentions, but I wanted to see what she was really up to.
"Okay."
After hanging up, I installed hidden cameras all over the place—the living room, bedroom, kitchen, every corner.
The day Daisy moved in, she brought a ton of stuff.
Everything was bought by Cindy; all the way, she kept praising how good Cindy was.
In the days that followed, my mother brought me tea and water every day, made breakfast for me in the morning, and washed my clothes at night.
Cindy also came often, always bringing plenty of dishes. She would take the initiative to do housework and chat with me.
"Sis, I was wrong before. Don't hold it against me."
I smiled and nodded, but deep down, I knew they were just putting on an act.
That night, I pretended to be working late and watched the surveillance footage on my mobile phone.
My mother and Cindy were sitting on the sofa.
"Mom, when will she finally sign the guarantee agreement?"
"Don't rush, wait until she trusts me a bit more."
Daisy took a sip of tea, "Once she signs, we'll kick her out, and the house will be ours."
Cindy smiled, "Mom is the best! By then, we'll be able to live overseas."
Then, Cindy pulled a bottle of medicine out of her bag.
She slipped the medicine into my wine glass and gave it a little stir.
"Once she drinks this, she won't be clear-headed and will definitely sign it."
Watching the surveillance footage, I clenched my fists, realizing they'd tried to drug me.
When I got home, Daisy immediately brought over a glass of wine.
"Lisa, you must be tired. Have a glass to help you relax."
I took the glass, pretending to take a sip.
"Mom, I realize now that I misunderstood you before. Our family should stick together."
Daisy smiled, "That's right, families don't hold grudges overnight."
I put the glass down and said, "I'll take a shower first, then I'll drink."
Once inside the bathroom, I backed up the surveillance footage on my phone.
Then, I posted an update on social media.
"The misunderstandings are all cleared up. Mom, my sister, and I will live peacefully from now on."
Below is a photo of the three of us, which I made using software.
Of course, this is just the first step in my counterattack.
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