Hoa Hồng Sám Hối

Therefore, she always believed her biological parents treated her well and secretly maintained contact with them. Later, they became more demanding, always using the excuse of visiting Lý Minh Nguyệt in Shanghai to live and eat at my house. They even encouraged her to steal my bank card for their use and take my car out to show off. After discovering this, I hinted to Lý Minh Nguyệt several times that her parents didn’t truly care for her as they appeared. One moment they’d shed tears pretending to miss their daughter before I took her away, the next they’d use my money to fly their son on vacations. They called Lý Minh Nguyệt their "little princess" to her face but doted on their son behind her back, giving him everything he wanted. Unfortunately, Lý Minh Nguyệt refused to listen. Using the iPhone her father bought with my stolen credit card, she scoffed without looking up: "Only poor families like yours favor sons over daughters! My parents love me!" She didn’t know that when I first escaped the mountains, her family was so poor they couldn’t afford food. Her mother left her crying by the doghouse, starving and ignored. It was only to repay my uncle who helped me escape that I’ve been sending them money all these years. Otherwise, she’d have starved or been sold to traffickers. "You’re the one who told me to treat this place as my own home! How hypocritical to begrudge me taking a few things!" Red-faced with humiliation, Lý Minh Nguyệt threw all her jewelry at me and stormed off. The slammed door shook the walls—a slap to my face. 03 After ensuring no one else was home, I called cleaners. Lý Minh Nguyệt emerged at dinner time, scowling when she saw no prepared meal. Reluctantly approaching me in the living room, she demanded: "When will you transfer the 5,000? My friend’s loan is due." Her entitlement was staggering. I laughed coldly, tossing her an itemized bill. "Pay me back first." The cleaners’ inventory revealed missing items: necklaces, watches, rings, lipsticks,面膜—even the toilet was clogged. Total damages: 58,633. She glanced at the list, guilt flashing before denial: "Why blame my friends? Maybe you lost them!" I dialed 110. "Return everything or your friend goes to jail." Panicking, she grabbed my phone: "Fine, I’ll get them back!" Later, she approached meekly: "Sis..." Clinging to my arm, she whimpered: "I know you’re upset about the piano teacher, but she looked down on me! Accused me of theft!" Her tearful act didn’t work. I’d learned the truth—she’d been stealing from tutors. Shoving her off, I said: "Quit school then. No more lessons." I’d canceled all her classes and planned her withdrawal. Her face twisted: "You never wanted to help me! You’re jealous I’m happier than you!" She spat venomously: "You want me miserable like you—a brother-hating parent-killer!" Her words revealed the truth: My devotion meant nothing. Lý Minh Nguyệt wasn’t the "bright moon" I hoped for—just another "Lý Nhị Nha" from the mountains, forever chained to her roots.