My Rich Dad Rented Me a Five-Hundred-Dollar Toxic Room

Chapter 2

Emily's POV:

"What do you mean you don't have a bed?" Mom's voice rose sharply. "We already paid $500 a month for three months. That's $1,500. Do you think money grows on trees?"

"That room was just renovated. The fumes were so strong I could barely keep my eyes open. There's a formaldehyde warning on the flooring boxes. The window only opens a c***k, and there's no ventilation at all."

"So what if you have to stay there for a few months? You're not some pampered princess. Can't you tough it out?"

"I just want a room in my own home. Tiffany has the whole third floor. Couldn't you give me even one of those rooms? You can afford a house like this, so why are you still tallying up every dollar you spent on my rent?"

Mom gave a cold laugh. "You'll work at the fried chicken place and live upstairs. It's only a few steps away. We even made sure you wouldn't have a commute, and all you care about is a lake view and a big bed."

"When did I ever say I wanted a lake view?" Tears stung my eyes.

Dad and Tiffany came downstairs. A diamond bracelet now circled Tiffany's wrist. She looked me up and down, from my socks to my graduation gown, with disgust. "Why are you still wearing that? We're taking family pictures later."

I ignored her and held on to the last bit of hope I had as I looked at Dad. "Why do you have to send me away? You always said the family didn't have enough money and Tiffany had to come first. Now that you have money, why is it still like this?"

Dad's smile disappeared. "Because you're 18 and need to learn to be independent. Just because there's more money in my account doesn't mean you get a free ride."

"I just graduated. I didn't ask you for a car. I didn't ask you for money. I haven't even eaten lunch, and you're telling me there isn't a room for me in the new house."

"No one owes you anything, Emily."

"What about Tiffany? She's two years older than I am. Why doesn't she need to be independent?"

Tiffany looked up, offended. Dad scowled and smacked the banister. "Don't drag your sister into this!"

"Why not? If working is supposed to be good for me, why can't it be good for her, too?"

"Tiffany struggles in school. Don't you understand? She's spent two years at community college and still can't keep up. If the family doesn't help her, who will? You have good grades and a scholarship. Your situations aren't the same." I looked down at the floor, numb. I'd crushed the corner of my diploma folder in my fist.

I tried to smooth it out, but my hands were shaking. "We support you going to college and living the life you want. Isn't that enough? And you're still blaming us?"

"Supporting me?" Tears streamed down my face. "I did my own applications. I earned the application fees by walking the neighbors' dogs. I earned my scholarship to Marlowe Bay University myself. You never even looked at my acceptance email!"

Mom rubbed her temples, exasperated. "Here we go again. She does one little thing and expects a standing ovation. Darren, don't argue with her. All she remembers is everything we never gave her."

Tiffany smirked. She jabbed a pink-manicured finger at my shoulder. "You're seriously dumb, Emily. Dad is a multimillionaire now. You're his daughter. As long as you don't make him mad, you'll never have to worry about money. You're throwing all of this away over one room. Aren't you supposed to be smart?"

I looked up at her and answered calmly. "Then you go live there. Give me the third floor. You can live in that room, work for three months, and spend every dollar you earn on a present for me. Dad will give you more later anyway. Would you do it?"

"Why would I?" she blurted. "Dad has plenty of money. Why should I wipe tables at a fried chicken place?"

The living room went silent. I stared at her, too hurt and furious to do anything but laugh.

"Yeah. Why should I be the only one who has to?"

A second later, Mom's slap landed across my face.