Toxic Attachment，Cutting Off My Parasite Family

My mother was thoroughly brainwashed by TikTok psychology. She claimed she had an "avoidant attachment style." She insisted her soul only needed an "anchor partner"—someone who would constantly guide and indulge her. If I said two fewer words at dinner, she’d accuse me of abuse. "Don't you know I’m avoidant? Are you giving me the silent treatment to drive me insane?" "You don't have an ounce of Mia's sweetness! Mia is always doting on me. You’ve worked your brain into mush at that stupid office!" In that suffocating house, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Yet she insisted I was deliberately punishing her. To cope, I adopted a little teacup poodle. Just as I was beginning to heal, my mother took the puppy and hurled him off our fifteenth-floor balcony. "Nasty mutt! Yapping all day long! It was giving me a headache!" I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I simply canceled my sister’s allowance, froze my mother’s medical fund, and accepted a lucrative job offer out of state—one I had turned down three times just to look after her. The moment my mind was made up, I booked my one-way ticket. My packed suitcase sat in the corner of my bedroom, ready to roll. The image of my puppy’s broken body was still burned into my mind. Looking in the mirror, my eyes were terrifyingly bloodshot. Brenda strolled in leisurely, holding a bowl of freshly washed grapes. With a calm smile, she said, "Dogs are filthy parasites anyway. Don't ever bring another one home, and I’ll consider letting you stay my good daughter." I stared straight into her eyes, my entire frame trembling, but I couldn't utter a sound. She curled her lip, shoving the bowl of grapes into my hands like some generous charity, then patted my shoulder. "Oh? Are you actually throwing a tantrum? Ever heard of respecting your elders? If you had half the loyalty Mia has, I wouldn’t have had to get rid of that animal! You know I have an avoidant attachment style. Giving me the cold shoulder proves you're an ungrateful viper who never cared about me." "Besides, touching that disgusting creature ruined my manicure." Always Mia. Always brushing past the wounds she carved into me to justify her cruelty. I looked down at the grapes in my hands, turned the bowl over, and let them drop. One by one, I crushed them beneath my sneakers. "You dare throw attitude at me?" Her eyes turned venomous, her lips twitching into an ugly smirk. "Get on your knees and eat them off the floor, or get the hell out of my apartment. Did living here make you forget whose name is on the deed?" "Don't forget, your dead father left this place to me. I let you sleep here out of pity, and I can throw you onto the street whenever I damn well please." The air turned freezing, but her words were colder than any winter wind. Except I didn't care anymore. To hell with family. Let her histrionic younger daughter bask in this toxic dump alone. I grabbed my suitcase handle and headed for the door. Brenda stuck her foot out, blocking my wheels. "Think long and hard about this. Once you walk out that door, you could bash your head open begging to get back in, and I still wouldn't unlock it." She wasn't sick of the empty threats, but I was exhausted from hearing them. I yanked the suitcase forward with all my might. Caught off balance, her heavy body crashed sideways to the floor in a pathetic heap. I didn't spare her a second glance. I kept walking. "Chloe! You ungrateful bitch! From this day on, you can drop dead on the street and I won't lift a finger!" I paused at the threshold, glancing back at her contorted, hateful face. "Deal." "And when you die in a ditch, don't expect me to bury you." She grabbed a ceramic vase from the entryway console and hurled it at my head with all her strength. "How dare you curse your own mother! You worthless brat..." I shut the door, leaving her shrieks muffled behind it. Once in the Uber, I dialed my landlord. "Mrs. Vance, I’m terminating the lease on the downtown apartment. Today." The woman’s voice turned shrill and abrasive. "What?! You're breaking the lease now? Do you have any idea how many tenants complained when your lunatic family threw that dog off the balcony last week?!" "You owe me for the damages and the lost rent!" The deed Brenda bragged about was a fake my father had printed out years ago to appease her ego. I had rented that place under my own name right after college, back when I was young, clueless, and easily manipulated into paying $200 over market rate while foolishly bringing Mrs. Vance baked goods every weekend. When I discovered the truth, I tried to negotiate, but she had pointed smugly to the lease. "Black and white, sweetie. You signed it. Don't like it? Break the lease and get out." Back then, faced with her arrogance, I had backed down because Brenda was obsessed with living in a luxury high-rise. Now, that lie was finally going to work in my favor. "Save your breath, Mrs. Vance. My mother is still sitting inside. Why don't you go up and discuss the rent with her?"I hung up and instantly powered down my phone. The blur of city lights through the cab window made my temples throb. The sheer misery of the past three years flashed before my eyes. Slaving away early mornings to late nights for a meager paycheck, supporting three people on one income. Mia’s private high school allowance, Brenda’s endless therapy and prescription bills. Whenever a supervisor undermined me or a coworker threw me under the bus, I swallowed it whole because of them. Other companies had reached out with six-figure packages, and I had turned them all down. Too far away. Wouldn't be able to run home when Mom had an "episode." Too far away. Wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Mia. A new venture was too risky; I couldn't afford to gamble with their survival on my shoulders. But now, I was only living for myself. No one else had a seat at my table. A surge of heat rushed through my veins. The fierce ambition I had buried for years was finally breathing again. When my flight touched down in Chicago, I turned my phone back on. Over a hundred missed calls lit up the screen. Brenda’s texts bombarded me like machine-gun fire. [What is this bullshit? This is my apartment! Since when did you rent it?] [I don't care what scam you pulled, you pay the rent! Where am I supposed to get that kind of cash?] [I have an avoidant attachment style! It doesn't mean I don't love you, I just haven't learned how to express it! Until I do, you're my daughter, and you owe me absolute loyalty!] I stared at the screen, then typed back two simple words: [Who's this?] Predictably, the cold dismissal triggered her instantly. A second later, the phone rang. I declined the call and blocked her across every platform. Moments later, another call popped up—Rachel’s executive assistant, asking me to come to the headquarters to sign my partner contract. I hailed a cab. The route was green lights all the way. I couldn't help but think back to when Rachel and I were cubicle mates. She had started at my old firm after I’d been grinding there for three years. That office was a viper pit. Senior managers dumped all their grunt work onto us, confident that I was too docile to push back. Covering their shifts, rewriting their decks, even expensing their holiday parties out of my own pocket. They bullied newcomers as a sport. When Rachel joined, they tried the exact same hazing rituals on her. Except Rachel was no helpless newbie. Nobody realized she was actually the youngest daughter of the Harrison Capital empire, merely working undercover to audit a department run by her corrupt cousin. She had tried to poach me multiple times, promising to clean house the moment I walked out. Back then, I had only smiled bitterly and declined. "If I relocate, what happens to my mother and sister?" Her stunning face had clouded with pity. After a pause, she had said, "Give me two years. In two years, I’ll launch my own independent firm in Chicago, and you’ll run it with me." I had nodded. "I believe you." Snapping back to the present, Rachel was already sitting across from me, taking a sip of her iced Americano. "You finally woke up?" I let out a genuine, unburdened laugh. She grinned back at me. "You were wasting your talent there. At my firm, you have full operational authority." Words couldn't capture my gratitude, so I poured everything into results. Over the next few weeks, I practically lived at the office, ultimately closing a multi-million-dollar tech acquisition that had stalled for months. Rachel clapped me on the shoulder. "I knew I wasn't wrong about you. Your performance bonus is already hitting your account." Just as my banking app pinged with a $5,000 direct transfer notification, an unknown number flashed on my screen. I answered. "Chloe! When the hell are you sending my allowance? My debit card just declined in front of the whole cafeteria! Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?!" The joy from a moment ago evaporated. I replied coldly, "Mia, from now on, go ask your mother for your lunch money."A scoff of disgust came over the line, followed by her signature passive-aggressive sneer. "Fine! Keep your pennies! It’s not like I’m begging you. If you want me to starve at school, that’s on your conscience." I knew her game. She was waiting for me to panic, apologize, and wire double the money to soothe her hurt feelings. She wanted the perks of being pampered without a shred of gratitude. Standing there, I felt nothing but sheer revulsion for the parasites I used to call family. "Sounds good," I said flatly. "Let me know when you starve to death." I hung up without hesitation and blacklisted the number. A month later, after I closed another major client, Rachel threw a private celebration dinner for our core team at an upscale downtown steakhouse. I arrived in high spirits, only to freeze at the restaurant entrance. There stood Brenda and Mia. The moment they spotted me, their eyes lit up like starved wolves scenting blood, looking ready to rip the designer blazer right off my back. Mia lunged forward first, screaming loud enough to turn heads across the lobby. "Why did you cut off my money?! Are you trying to starve Mom and me to death?!" Brenda marched up behind her, putting on an aggrieved performance for the gathering crowd. "Do you know I can sue you for parental abandonment? All over a stupid dog! Are you really going to ruin your own family over an animal?!" Mia chimed in, "Exactly! A worthless mutt isn't worth more than your own flesh and blood! You are so petty, Chloe!" Just then, Lucas, a new intern from our department, stepped out of the dining room. He wrinkled his nose and scoffed, "Chloe? Wow. I had no idea you were this kind of person. Guess you really had us all fooled." I didn't waste a glance on the clout-chasing intern. I locked eyes with Mia. "You have the nerve to say that? You bloodsucking parasite. Let’s see how long you survive without my paycheck." Mia’s face didn't flinch. Instead, she stepped closer, tugging at my sleeve with that familiar, manipulative sweetness. "Oh, come on, Chloe! Mom was just stressed out and made a mistake! It was just a little puppy. Come back home with us, and we’ll let you buy an even cuter one. Mom and I already gave our permission..." A dry laugh ripped from my throat, cutting her off. Her fake smile fractured into rage. "I need your permission to live my life?" "Who the hell do you think you are to me?" Mia pouted, falling back on her baby voice. "You're misunderstanding me, sis! I only meant—" "Cut the crap, Mia. Save the acting. I’m immune." Mia’s entitled malice was carefully cultivated by Brenda. Brenda’s golden rule had always been: the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Mia had mastered that game early on. If threats didn't work, she cried; if tears failed, she played cute. Brenda lavished all her attention, money, and affection on Mia’s whims. In return, I got neglect, emotional abuse, and endless demands. Brenda claimed she had an "avoidant attachment style" and didn't know how to love. Yet she seemed perfectly capable of doting on Mia. The truth was simple: she never gave a damn about me.Brenda stepped aggressively into my space, shielding Mia behind her left shoulder while jabbing a manicured finger into my face. "You're just like your deadbeat father! He ran around cheating on his family, and you sit on your piles of cash while leaving your mother to rot! You know I’m avoidant, yet you deliberately ice me out. Who are you sleeping with out here to afford these clothes?!" I smacked her hand away. "Aside from spreading disgusting rumors, what else are you good for? Why don't you put this energy into getting a job, Brenda? Otherwise, how are you going to pay Mrs. Vance the rent?" I stepped past her and locked my gaze onto Mia. Mia flinched, but before she could duck, I clamped my hand onto her chin, forcing her head up. "And you. When I was your age, I went to class during the day and worked two shifts at night just to survive. What makes you think you're entitled to sit on your ass while I finance your lifestyle?" "Begging me for rent and pocket money while acting like a princess—have you no shame?" Mia’s face flushed crimson. She hissed through gritted teeth, "Older sisters take care of younger sisters! It’s what you owe me! If you don't wire my allowance right now, I’ll walk into that dining room and cause a scene in front of your bosses! I’ll make sure everyone knows what a heartless monster you are! If I’m miserable, you don't get to live in luxury!" I released her chin with my left hand and brought my right hand across her cheek in a sharp, echoing slap. Brenda lunged at me instantly, shoving me back against the wall while cradling Mia’s red face, shrieking like a banshee. "How dare you hit your sister! Mia is right! You ruined our lives, and you think you can sit in corner offices drinking champagne?!" Before I could speak, Lucas, the intern, puffed out his chest and stepped forward. "Ma'am, our executive board is dining in the private suite on the third floor. I’ll take you right up to them." He turned to glare at me with righteous fury. "I've hated working under you from day one, Chloe. Always bossing everyone around, pretending to be some corporate saint. Turns out you're just a trashy, abusive daughter!" I stared at the smug little climber, who was practically vibrating with malicious excitement. Rachel was upstairs. And so was her father. Mr. Harrison, Chairman of Harrison Capital, happened to be in town to review the annual performance of Rachel’s division. Weighing the situation, I kept my voice icy. "I don't have time for this circus. Walk up those stairs if you want, but the second you do, I wash my hands of you permanently. Not another dime. Ever." Mia rolled her eyes and spat, "Like you ever gave us anything substantial anyway! Stop acting like you're our savior, you dried-up bitch!" With that, she grabbed Brenda’s arm and marched inside. Lucas shot me a triumphant sneer and scurried ahead to guide them. Mia burst through the double doors of the private dining room like a theatrical hurricane, throwing herself into an emotional frenzy. "Chloe! How could you spend thousands on dinner when Mom can't even afford her prescriptions..." The entire room fell dead silent. Every executive turned toward the doorway. I walked in behind them, completely composed, and looked directly at the silver-haired man sitting at the head of the table. "Mr. Harrison, I apologize. This is my mother and my sister..." "Who the hell is Mr. Harrison?!" Brenda shrieked dramatically. "You shameless brat, did you pick up some wealthy sugar daddy just to dodge your family obligations?!" Mia immediately played along, dabbing at her dry eyes and whimpering, "Chloe, please... you can't just abandon us for a rich older man! He has a family! What if his wife finds out?!"