They Told Everyone I Was Adopted, I Was Their Real Daughter Chapter 05

They Told Everyone I Was Adopted, I Was Their Real Daughter Chapter 05

I landed and took a cab to the institute. My advisor 

messaged me before I even arrived. 

Professor: [I’ve sent you ten thousand dollars. 

Your university professor is an old classmate of mine. She told me about your situation.] 

Professor: [Don’t worry about money. The institute. 

covers everything–food, housing, living expenses. 

Just come and do your work.] 

My throat closed up. I accepted the transfer and 

replied. 

Gia: [Thank you, Professor.] 

He sent a goofy nodding–puppy sticker. I laughed 

and sent a high–five back. 

Before I’d even checked in, my dad tagged me in 

the family group chat. 

Dad: [Gia, where are you? Are you staying at a hotel? Spendthrift–I’ll send you some money.] 

A five–hundred–dollar transfer followed. I didn’t 

accept it. I didn’t reply. 

Five minutes later, Mom sent a voice message. I 

knew she’d only tear into me, but I still clicked it. 

“Your father’s talking to you and you can’t even 

answer? What kind of daughter are you? I must 

have owed you in a past life.” 

The volume startled the cab driver. I apologized 

and turned it down. 

A new message from Zoe. 

Zoe: [Mom, come back quick! This is my first time. 

cooking!] 

Mom replied instantly. 

Mom: [You’re amazing, sweetie. But the kitchen 

fumes are bad for you–don’t ever cook again.] 

No heat required for that dish. In third grade, I was already lighting fires and cooking myself. Dad sent 

her five thousand dollars with a note. 

Dad: [Sweetie, you’re the best.] 

I smiled bitterly and put my phone away. 

The car stopped at the institute. Colleagues were 

waiting. A young man took my suitcase and 

smiled. “You must be Gia Gray. I’m Nathan Cross. 

Been here a year.” 

I nodded. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. 

I looked at him, confused. 

He laughed. “This is just the outpost. The real 

facility is deep in the desert. We’ll need to switch 

to off–road vehicles.” 

The journey was brutal, nearly ten hours. I looked 

at Nathan–still energetic, hauling my luggage- 

and marveled at the people here. 

I looked up. The night sky exploded into stars. 

I stopped breathing. 

Nathan stood beside me and sighed. “I’ve been 

here over a year. Every time I see this sky, it still 

hits me.” 

“Come on. I’ll show you your room.” 

It was small. A single room, just for me. 

Compared to the closet–sized storage room at 

home, it was heaven. 

I beamed. Nathan looked confused. “You’re not 

disappointed?” 

I shook my head and started unpacking. “It’s 

perfect. I love it.” 

Three days later, I got back to my room and saw a 

message in the family chat. 

Mom: [Your dad made a room on the balcony. Zoe 

gave you her old mattress–hurry up and thank 

her.] 

I opened the photo. The balcony was crammed 

with cleaning supplies. In the middle, a narrow, 

worn mattress. 

Yesterday, I’d seen Zoe’s social media. 

Zoe: [Just bought my dog a brand–new designer 

bed.] 

This was the old one she’d tossed. 

I looked around my room. Bear–print curtains. 

Handmade coasters. A four–piece bedding set I’d 

chosen myself. Simple. Comfortable. Mine. No 

one could take it away. 

I replied. 

Gia: [I’m supposed to sleep on a mattress a dog 

already used?] 

Mom fired back. 

Mom: [Ungrateful wretch.]