I Was His Overseas ATM While My Family Starved

I’m a vice president overseas. Yet my parents and daughter are sleeping under an overpass and digging through trash for food. The day I come home, I plan to surprise them. Instead, outside their apartment complex, I see them picking through someone else’s discarded leftovers. Mom and Dad are painfully thin. My daughter, Isabella, is covered in dirt, with a strip of cloth tied over her eyes. I rush over, snatch the sour-smelling food from their hands, and throw it onto the ground. “Mom, Dad, I know you like saving money, but you can’t eat food out of a dumpster!” They stare at me without moving. The next second— Mom’s eyes turn red. She slaps me hard across the face. “You monster.” “Why did you even come back?” Dad bends down and grabs a broken brick from the ground. “You ruined this whole family!” “I’ll kill you!” I dodge as he swings it at me. Then Isabella suddenly drops to her knees. “I’m hungry…” Her hands desperately search the ground. She grabs the spoiled leftovers I just threw away. Then she starts stuffing them into her mouth. “Isabella!” “Don’t eat that!” “Mommy has money. I’ll take you somewhere nice to eat!” Bang! The brick in Dad’s hand slams into my head. Pain explodes through my skull. The world spins. Then Dad’s furious roar crashes into my ears. “We sold everything we owned to pay off your debts!” “You have money?” “Bullshit!” ... I have been working overseas for six years. I start as a junior employee. Then I work my way up to vice president. Everything back home, I leave to my husband, Evan Ridley. Every month, I wire him $25,000. Some of it is for Mom, Dad, and Isabella. Some is for renovating my parents’ old house. The rest is supposed to go toward buying them a new place in the city. Evan is always complaining on the phone. “Everything is getting more expensive.” “Stop thinking about coming home all the time.” “Just focus on making money.” “If you earn more, everyone at home can live better.” So I swallow my homesickness. And I keep working. For six whole years. The moment I walk out of the airport, Evan calls me. “Anna, Isabella scratched someone’s luxury car.” “The owner wants ten thousand dollars.” Usually, Evan handles everything that happens back home. But now I’m finally here. “Are you and Isabella okay?” “We’re fine, but the owner yelled at her. She’s been crying.” “As long as you’re both okay. I’ll handle it.” There is a brief pause. “How are you going to handle it from overseas?” I’m just about to tell him I’m already back. But his voice suddenly turns impatient. “Hurry up. The owner’s getting angry again.” “Fine. I’ll send you the money.” After hanging up, I immediately transfer him $25,000. I don’t want my family being humiliated over money. A few minutes later, Evan sends me a message. **Done. Isabella says she loves Mommy.** I smile and type back. **If everything’s okay, take Isabella home.** There is one thing I do not tell him. I’m already back. Very soon, our family will finally be together again. I have waited for this day for so long. I get into a cab outside the airport. “Could you drive a little faster?” Forty minutes later, the car stops outside my parents’ apartment complex. But the moment I step out— I see something I will never forget.

Several large dumpsters sit outside the apartment complex. The moment I step out of the cab, I see two familiar figures with a little girl of about seven or eight, digging through the dumpsters for leftover food. Everyone passing by looks at them with disgust. Then they turn around. I freeze on the spot. Those two elderly people are my parents. And the little girl is my daughter, Isabella. The next second, I rush over in fury, snatch the sour-smelling leftovers from their hands, and slam them onto the ground. Mom and Dad stare at me blankly. “Even if you’re trying to save money, you can’t eat food out of a dumpster!” I’m so angry that every hair on my body seems to stand on end. I know older people can be extremely frugal. But no matter how much you want to save, you still have to take care of your health. Mom and Dad are getting old. And Isabella is only seven. If they keep eating spoiled food like this, sooner or later, someone is going to get sick. By then, whatever money they saved won’t even cover the medical bills. Mom and Dad keep staring at me. The next second, Mom’s eyes turn red. She slaps me hard across the face. “You monster.” “Why didn’t you just die overseas?” “Why did you come back?” I stare at the fury in her eyes, completely stunned. But I can only explain. “Mom, I’m a vice president now. I’ve been so busy with work that I haven’t had time to come back and see you…” Dad bends down and picks up a broken brick. He roars at me. “You bastard!” “You still have the nerve to call yourself a vice president?” “You destroyed this whole family!” “I’ll kill you!” He charges at me with the brick. I dodge frantically while trying to explain. “Dad, I’ve been working to make money!” “Can’t you understand that?” Just then, Isabella suddenly drops to her knees. “I’m hungry…” Her hands desperately search the ground. She grabs the sour leftovers I just threw away. Then she starts stuffing them into her mouth. The sight makes my eyes burn with rage. “Isabella!” “Don’t eat that!” “Mommy has money!” “I’ll take you somewhere nice. You can eat anything you want!” Bang! I’m too slow to dodge this time. The brick in Dad’s hand slams into my head. Pain explodes through my skull. The world spins. Then Dad’s furious roar crashes into my ears. “You monster!” “We sold everything we owned to pay off your debts!” “And you’re standing here telling me you have money?” “Bullshit!” He raises the brick again. “Wait!” I shout desperately. Dad stops. I clutch my head and stare at him. “When did I ever ask you to sell everything to pay off my debts?” “I’m a vice president. I make hundreds of thousands a year…” “You monster!” Dad cuts me off. “You’re still pretending?” “I’ll kill you today!” “I’ll act like I never had a daughter!”

“Dad, stop!” “Calm down and listen to me!” No matter what I say, Dad refuses to listen. He chases me around the entrance of the apartment complex, swinging the brick at me. At first, I thought Mom and Dad were digging through leftovers because they were trying to save money. But now, it is obvious something happened while I was gone. Something I know nothing about. By then, some of the old neighbors have come outside after hearing the commotion. The moment they see Dad chasing me, they all stop to watch. A few of them even clap. “Robert, good!” “Hit her harder!” “That daughter of yours ruined this whole family!” “That’s right!” “Someone like her deserves whatever happens to her!” “Poor Isabella. Having a mother like that is the worst thing that could happen to a child.” I hear every word. Then I see the security guard coming over. “Sir!” I hurry toward him. “Please help me!” He gives me a cold look. “If I didn’t need to keep this job,” “I’d hit you too.” “…” I have no choice but to dodge into the crowd. The moment I get an opening, I grab Dad’s wrist. “Enough!” “Stop for one second and listen to me!” “Listen to what?” Dad snaps. “Your mother, Isabella, and I have been sleeping outside!” “We dig through trash just to eat!” “And it’s all because of you!” “You still have the nerve to come back?” Dad struggles hard, trying to rip his arm free. I tighten my grip. “I send Evan twenty-five thousand dollars every month!” “I told him to renovate your house!” “I told him to buy you a better place in the city!” “When did I ever ask you to pay off my debts?” “When did I ever ask you to sleep outside?” “Dad, I really am a vice president!” Maybe because I sound so desperate, Dad finally calms down a little. But he still looks at me coldly. Then he gestures toward the crowd. “Ask them.” “See if anyone here believes you.” I look around. Every single person is staring at me with contempt. Some are even smirking. Mrs. Carter, who used to brag about how successful I was, lets out a bitter laugh. “Anna, everyone knows you ran up a massive gambling debt overseas.” I freeze. “What?” “Those people were going to cut off your hands and feet.” “Your husband sold the house to save you.” “He sold your parents’ home too.” “Everything valuable is gone.” “He works six jobs a day now.” “All just to help pay off your debt.” She looks me up and down. “And you still have the nerve to say you’re a vice president?” Her words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I slowly turn toward Mom and Dad. I can barely get the words out. “Evan told you that?” They nod. Mom pulls Isabella into her arms. Her eyes are red. Her voice shakes as she speaks. “Isabella’s eyes went bad, and we didn’t even have money to get her treated.” “She’s only seven.” “And now she’ll never see the world again.” Then she looks at me with pure hatred. “You bastard.” “Why didn’t you just die overseas?”