From Pantry To MIT: Their Regret

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nd defiant, fresh from a public altercation with his wealthy, estranged father. His father, a prominent lawyer, had disowned him after a particularly spectacular act of rebel

I, having just been kicked out of another foster home that morning for "insubordination," walked into the chaos. Without thinking, I bluffed. I pulled out my non-fu

ol a few weeks later, a scholarship student at the elite private institution the Corbetts would later send me to.

and science, subjects he initially struggled with, but soon excelled at under my patient guidance. He'd stand up for me against the snobbish rich kids who mocked my thrift store clothes.

found me. And ev

the first to hear the news, having been with me when the private investigator tracked me down. His i

voice tight. "You're a Corbett. All t

d. "And it's not like that. They don

distant, critical. "You're going to upset Angelique," he'd said, his voice l

ective product, then treated me like a servant for three years! They starved me, they isolated me, they let Angelique-their fake daughter-

had watched me work double shifts after school to pay for my foster care tuition. He had seen me wear th

e cherished. He scoffed, a nasty sound that scraped against my raw nerves. "You just want to destroy them, don't you? You want

ay, I lived in fear. Fear of their anger, fear of Angelique's next malicious prank, fear

Catrina. They've admitted their mistakes. They're trying to fix

d adopted their narrative, their twisted logic. My fight for basic human dignity, for recognition, for justice, was simply greed in

onnection, was extinguished. A crushing emptiness settled over me

icate myself to my studies, to my robotics. I would build a life so spectacular, so undeniable, that the Corbetts

my new school, a small, independent private academy known for its STEM program

na! Wa

en a school far away, a place where their shadow couldn't reach. I closed my eyes for a brief second, wishing I could