I threw my head back and laughed. It was a deep, rich, unrestrained laugh that echoed off the walls of my Tokyo suite.
Talia needed rest, didn’t she? I thought to myself, feeling a dark, potent wave of schadenfreude wash over me.
While they were crammed into a humid, cheap room, snapping at each other, swatting at mosquitoes, and blaming the situation on everyone but themselves, I was drinking green tea and eating mochi in absolute luxury.
My parents had made a choice. They chose the wrong child to prioritize. They enabled a monster, fed her ego, and expected me to foot the bill. Now, stripped of my financial buffer, they were trapped in a tiny room with the very monster they created. The price of their betrayal was facing the naked, ugly truth about each other.
By the third day of their “vacation,” the dynamic shifted again. They stopped calling to yell at me. They stopped trying to demand their luxury hotel back. Reality had finally broken their pride.
My phone rang. It was my father.
I looked at the screen, watching his name flash. Their money was completely gone. The hostel was paid for, but they likely couldn’t afford food, let alone tourist attractions.
It was time to make my final decision.
Chapter 5: The Budget Flight
I let the phone ring four times before I calmly swiped the green button and brought the device to my ear.
“Hello?” I said, my voice steady, cool, and detached.
“Nina,” my father said.
His voice was a hollow shell of its former self. He sounded utterly exhausted, defeated, and broken. In the background, I could hear the rattling hum of a cheap, struggling ventilation fan and the distant, shrill voice of Talia complaining about something in the hallway.
“Nina, please don’t hang up,” Marek pleaded, his voice cracking. “We are sorry. We were so wrong. This… this trip is a nightmare. Talia has no money of her own, my cards are completely locked by the bank, and your mother hasn’t stopped crying for two days. We have eaten nothing but cheap bread and tap water. Please, sweetheart. Just get us out of here. Bring us home.”
I stayed silent for a long moment. I let him sit in the uncomfortable, humiliating silence of his own consequences. I didn’t feel a surge of victory; I just felt a profound, exhausting sadness that it had to come to this for them to respect me.
“I am not a travel agent, Dad,” I said quietly.
“I know, I know,” he stammered quickly. “We will pay you back every cent when we get home. I swear it. Just… please. We can’t stay here for another week. We will go crazy.”
“I will send three one-way tickets to your email address,” I said, my tone shifting into business mode. “You will pack your bags and go to the airport tomorrow morning.”
I heard a massive, shuddering sigh of relief over the phone. “Thank you, Nina. Thank you so much. I knew you wouldn’t leave us here. You’re still our good daughter. What time is the flight? Is it the same business class airline we flew here on?”
“Wait,” I interrupted, my voice sharpening like a blade. “Do not misunderstand me, Dad. I am not rewarding your betrayal. You are not flying business class.”
“What do you mean?” he asked nervously.
