My name is Xena Reynolds, and I am twenty-five years old. My brother, Benjamin Reynolds, is two years younger than me.

Growing up, whatever my brother had, I had too.

In terms of food, clothes, and other essentials, my parents never let me lack anything. Sometimes, because Benjamin was mischievous, they even favored me a little more.

My parents always said I was their little cotton-padded jacket, teaching Benjamin to protect and care for his sister.

But now I finally understand, love is just... love for the daughter, money for the son.

But Benjamin?

He grew up with me, and our bond is genuine, unaffected by our parents. I think, at least my brother still cares about me.

Facing my parents' unfair decisions, he won't agree to such distribution! I'm sure of it.

My mom connected the call with my brother, putting it on speaker for my dad to hear.

Sure enough, my brother didn't disappoint me.

“Mom, Dad, this isn't right.”

My dad said, "What's not right? Your sister doesn't remember anything now. She doesn't even know who we are. She doesn't need to know about this money.”

My mom added, “Exactly, Benjamin. Think about it, your sister graduated from a prestigious university and now earns over ten thousand dollars a month. Her circumstances are definitely better than yours. Plus, she's a girl and won't need to buy a house herself in the future. Her boyfriend is local, and she'll just marry over there. But you're different. You're a boy. Without a fully paid house, what girl would marry you?"

My brother replied, "But the doctor said my sister has temporary amnesia, not permanent. What if she remembers one day?"

My dad replied, "It's not that easy to remember. Besides, even if she does, it can't be a hundred percent certain. After all, it's a brain issue."

My mom said, "And even if she remembers, so what? Is she going to fight with us, tear the family apart? Honestly, your dad and I have been more than fair to her. Raised her, educated her. Treated her the same as our precious son. Isn't that enough of a blessing?"

My dad continued, "I have three brothers, and she's our only daughter. If it weren't for your grandma spoiling her, I wouldn't even have let her go to high school.”

My mom said to my dad, "You dare say that? Your mom is something else. While others spoil their grandsons, she took out her own savings to support her granddaughter!"

My dad waved it off, "Alright, enough about that. Benjamin, remember what your mom and I told you. When you visit your sister later, don't mention a word about the demolition."

My brother was silent for a moment on the other end of the line, "I understand. I'm just worried about really alienating my sister. She's about to get married, right? The dowry from her fiancé... I was hoping to borrow it for renovations. I was thinking, if she ever remembers, we could just say the house didn't sell for much, the developer backed out, and we only got ten or twenty thousand, which we saved for our retirement."

I thought to myself: He is educated, not only does he think better than my parents, but he also has a broader perspective and vision!

My mom said, "Alright, we'll come up with a strategy then. If she remembers, we'll deal with it."

I sneaked back to my hospital bed, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

The lottery ticket in my pocket was pressed tightly against my thigh, burning and mocking.

When my first thought was about how to spend the money to make my parents and brother live comfortably, they were plotting to hide the money from the house demolition from me?

My dad's coldness, my mom's favoritism, my brother's selfishness.

All of this, yet I pitifully transformed it into "love"?

I never imagined that pretending to lose my memory and jokingly calling them "uncle and aunt" would cost me my parents.

But at least, I still have money.

Half an hour later, my brother came to the hospital to see me.

The whole family surrounded me with concern, cautiously probing my "remaining memories."

I played along happily.

At least my unfamiliarity and indifference towards them were interpreted as symptoms of my amnesia, without drawing suspicion.

Only when my mom suggested changing my clothes did I refuse.

I wouldn't let them know about the lottery ticket, just like they were resolute about not mentioning the house demolition to me.

The next day, Kevin Quinn came to see me.

He was on a business trip out of town, and when I told him about my car accident in the morning, he immediately booked a flight back.