My brother found my $30,000 monthly check and handed it to my parents. We’ll take this as repayment for raising you. I took the check and tore it up in their faces. Get your own, you parasites.
My name is Caesar, and my whole life I was the least loved child. I’m not being dramatic. It’s just a fact.
 I have an older brother, Rodrigo, who was always the perfect son in my parents’ eyes. He got everything. The best clothes, the best gifts, all the attention, all the love.
I got his leftovers, literally. Handme-own clothes he no longer wanted, the worst portions of food at dinner. Zero emotional support.
 But the worst part started when I turned 17 and got my first job. My parents forced me to hand over 80% of every paycheck with the excuse of helping to pay the bills. Meanwhile, Rodrigo also worked, but they never asked him for a single scent. His money was his, mine was theirs. This went on for years. I barely had enough to survive, let alone save for college.
 But somehow I managed. I got scholarships, took out student loans, and worked two jobs while studying. I graduated with honors in computer science specializing in artificial intelligence and landed an incredible job at a tech startup. The salary $30,000 a month. Yes, you read that right. $30,000 a month. I never told my family how much I earned.
 I simply mentioned that I had gotten a decent job in tech and left it at that. They didn’t need to know more. Now we get to the important part. I received my first paycheck as a physical check because I was still setting up direct deposit with the company. When it arrived in the mail at my apartment, I sat on the couch and stared at it for what felt like an eternity.
 $30,000 made out to my name. After years of struggling, of going hungry during college, of sleeping 4 hours a night so I could work and study, it was finally here. I’m not going to lie, I cried. I cried tears of relief, of joy, of pride. I left the check on my desk that night, planning to go to the bank the next morning to deposit it.
 It was the biggest mistake I could have ever made. That night, my mom made dinner, and as usual, she served me the worst portions while Rodrigo got the best. Some habits never die. After dinner, I needed to use the bathroom. I was washing my hands when I heard a shout. No way. Mom, Dad, come see this. It was Rodrigo. My heart started racing.
 I ran out of the bathroom and into my room, thinking something terrible had happened. When I got there, I found a scene I will never forget. Rodrigo was standing there holding something in his hands, his eyes as wide as plates. My parents were beside him, staring at the same object with expressions of shock and greed.
 It was my check. “What are you doing with my stuff?” I shouted, furious. Rodrigo ignored me completely. He kept staring at the check as if it were a winning lottery ticket. “3000 Y 3000,” hesaid slowly, his voice filled with disbelief. 30,000 a month. He looked at me with a mixture of shock and accusation. And you told us you had a decent job.
You lied to us. My mom took a step toward me. Her expression had completely changed. She was no longer the mother trying to be nice. It was pure greed mixed with fury. Caesar. Her voice trembled. What is the meaning of this? You earn $30,000 a month. It’s my paycheck, I replied, trying to stay calm.
 And it’s none of your business. Now give it back. None of our business. My dad stood up from his armchair, his face turning red. You earned $30,000 and you hid it from us. I didn’t have to tell you anything. It’s my money. I earned it. Your money. Rodrigo let out a bitter laugh. You think you have the right to keep secrets like this from your family after everything they did for you.
 I felt the rage building in my chest. Everything they did for me. Seriously, are we going to have this conversation? We gave you a roof over your head. My mom yelled. We fed you. We clothed you. We sent you to school. You gave me leftovers. I shot back, my voice rising. Hand me down clothes, food Rodrigo didn’t want, zero support, and you stole 80% of my paycheck when I was a minor.
You don’t owe me anything because you never gave me anything worthwhile. There was a moment of tense silence. I could see the wheels turning in my parents’ heads. They were calculating something. My dad was the first to speak. His voice took on a tone that tried to be reasonable but sounded completely fake.
 Caesar, look, calm down. Nobody is fighting here. He took a step toward me. But you have to understand our perspective. Raising you cost a lot of money, years of sacrifice. What are you getting at? I asked, though I already knew the answer. My mom approached from the other side. Honey, we’ve been thinking and well, we think it’s only fair that we take this check as repayment for raising you. I froze.
What did you say? You heard him. My dad intervened, his voice becoming firmer. Consider this as you finally paying your debt to this family. We invested in you for years. Now it’s time for you to return the favor. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Are you serious? You want to take my entire paycheck? We’re not asking,” my mom said firmly.
“It’s the right thing to do. It’s what’s fair.” “Besides, your brother needs money to start his new business. As a family, we should support each other. Rodrigo always needs money for something,” I said bitterly. “And I’m always the one who has to pay for it, right? Don’t be selfish, Caesar Rodrigo said, still holding my check out of my reach.
 Family is family, and families help each other. Help each other. I exploded. Where was this family help when I graduated from college and none of you showed up? Where was it when I was working two jobs and eating ramen everyday? Where was it when I asked for just one new pair of shoes because mine had holes in them? Get over it, Rodrigo muttered.
That was years ago. It was years ago for you, I replied. For me, it was a lifetime of feeling like trash. My dad was getting impatient. Enough with the drama. You’re going to endorse that check, Caesar. That’s an order. An order. I laughed humorously. You’re not my boss. You’re nothing to me anymore. I am your father. He roared.
And as long as I’m alive, you’ll do as I say. No, not anymore. My mom switched tactics, her eyes filling with fake tears. Caesar, please don’t be cruel. Your father and I are going through financial difficulties. We have debts. We don’t know how we’re going to pay the mortgage next month. Financial difficulties.
I gestured around the room. I see a new big screen TV. I saw a new car outside. Rodrigo is wearing designer clothes. Your financial difficulties are because you spend more than you earn. That’s none of your business. My dad shouted. Exactly. And my salary isn’t your business either.
 Rodrigo stepped forward, holding out the check. Look, little brother, this can go one of two ways. the easy way or the hard way. You can either sign the check voluntarily or or what? I interrupted. You’re going to force me. You’re going to forge my signature because that’s a federal crime. My mom quickly shook her head. No one is going to forge anything.
Just Just sign the check, Caesar. Do it for your family. You are not my family. The words came out before I could stop them. A family doesn’t treat their children the way you treated me. A family doesn’t have such obvious favorites. A family doesn’t steal money from their teenage kids.
 We gave you life, my mom screamed, the fake tears turning into real fury. You owe us everything. I owe you nothing. I responded with the same intensity. I didn’t ask to be born. You decided to have another child. That was your decision, not mine. And if raising a child is as expensive and awful as you say, why did you do it? Silence.
That’s what I thought. I continued. Now give me back my check. My dad blocked my path to Rodrigo. You’re not leaving this house with that check. You’re going to do the right thing. And then something inside me just snapped. 25 years of abuse. 25 years of being the least loved. 25 years of giving them everything and getting nothing in return.
 25 years of begging for scraps of their affection. You know what? I said, my voice becoming dangerously calm. You’re right. My mom stopped crying. What? You’re right. I do owe you something for raising me. I looked at Rodrigo. Give me the check. He looked at me suspiciously. Are you going to sign it? Just give me the damn check.
 Rodrigo hesitated but finally extended it to me. I took it from his hands and held it in front of me, staring at those beautiful digits. 30,000. This, I said slowly, is what you owe me. I tore it in half. Then I tore those halves again and I kept tearing it over and over and over until there was nothing but confetti in my hands. No, my mom screamed, lunging toward me.
You idiot. Rodrigo shrieked. That was our money. Your money. I let the pieces of the check fall to the floor like snow. It wasn’t yours. It was mine. and I’d rather destroy it than give it to a bunch of parasites. My dad was red with fury. What did you just do? What I should have done years ago, I answered, a strange calm washing over me. Denying you what you wanted.
Denying you control over me. Denying you even a single scent of what I earned with my hard work. $30,000. My mom cried on her knees, gathering the pieces of the check as if she could put it back together. You threw away $30,000. I picked up my backpack from the floor, putting my things back inside. For years, I wondered what I did wrong, why I wasn’t good enough, why Rodrigo was perfect, and I was the disappointment.
But now I get it. It wasn’t me. It was never me. It was you. You are cruel, selfish, greedy people who should have never had children. You can’t talk to us like that, my dad said. But his voice had lost all authority. I can and I will because you have no more power over me. I don’t live under your roof anymore.
 I don’t eat your food anymore. I don’t need your love or your approval anymore. I don’t need anything from you. I headed for the door. And just so we’re clear, I said, turning back one last time. That check was just the first of many. Every month I’ll get another one. And every month I’ll deposit it into my account. I’ll buy what I want. I’ll live how I want.
 And you won’t see a single scent. Caesar, you can’t just leave like this. My mom cried. We’re your family. No, I said firmly. Parasites aren’t family. They’re pests and I’ve just exterminated you from my life. You’ll regret this, my dad threatened. The only thing I regret, I said as I opened the door, is not doing it sooner. Enjoy your misery.
 You’ve earned it. And I walked out. I closed the door behind me, ignoring their screams. I walked to my car on shaky legs, got in, and drove away from that house and those toxic people. The first thing I did when I got to my apartment was call my company. I explained that an incident had occurred with my check and I needed them to cancel it and issue a new one.
 The HR department was incredibly understanding. No problem, Mr. Caesar. We’ll cancel this check immediately and send you a new one via certified mail in 2 days. Or would you prefer we set up your direct deposit right now? Direct deposit, please? I replied with relief. Perfect. Your next payment will be deposited directly into your account.
 After hanging up, I sat on my couch and let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. I had done it. I had really done it. I had torn up a $30,000 check in front of the people who had tormented me my whole life. And I didn’t regret it one bit. Yes, it was a lot of money. Yes, I could have used it, but the symbolism was worth far more than any dollar amount.
 It was my Declaration of Independence, my war cry, my way of saying never again. Then I did the next most important thing. I blocked my parents and Rodrigo’s numbers on my phone. I blocked them on all my social media. I changed my privacy settings so they couldn’t see anything about my life. I cut all ties. For the first time in my life, I was completely free.
 Of course, they didn’t give up easily. When they realized I had blocked them, they started calling from other numbers. Neighbors numbers, public phones, work numbers. I blocked every single one. Then the letters started. They arrived at my apartment almost daily. The first ones tried to be manipulative. Caesar, your mother is very sick.
 She needs an expensive surgery. Please call us. I did some research. My mom wasn’t sick. I saw her on Facebook from a cousin’s account posting pictures of herself shopping at the mall. Months went by. I focused on my work, on building my life. I got another promotion and was now earning $45,000 a month. I moved into a bigger apartment.
I met an incredible woman at work. I made real friends. I was happy. Genuinely, completely happy. And then I found out what was happening with them. It turned out my parents had been living far beyond their means for years. The money they stole from me as a teenager was just a fraction of how they supported their lifestyle.
They had massive credit card debts, unpayable car loans, a mortgage that was about to be foreclosed on. When they lost my monthly contribution of $30,000 that they had assumed they would receive, the whole thing came crashing down like a house of cards. First, they sold Rodrigo’s new car, then the big screen TV, then my mom’s jewelry.
 But it wasn’t enough to cover their debts. My dad had to get a second job. My mom, who had been semi-retired, had to go back to work full-time in a position she loathed. Rodrigo finally had to get a real job, a fast food gig he hated with a passion. And it still wasn’t enough. 6 months after our final confrontation, the bank foreclosed on their house.
 They had to move into a small, cheap apartment in a neighborhood they had always considered beneath them. And I felt nothing. Not satisfaction, not sadness, not guilt, not joy, just nothing. They had dug their own grave. For years, they bled me dry, assuming I would always be there to be used. They never considered that one day I would say enough.
 They built their life on the foundation of my exploitation and abuse. When that foundation crumbled, everything else fell with it. Update one. It’s been a year since that night, a year since I tore up that check, a year since I cut all ties. My life is unrecognizable now. I got another promotion. And now I lead my own team. My salary is even higher.
 I married the woman I met at work. She is kind, understanding, and comes from a family that truly knows what love means. We bought a house together, adopted a dog. I have friends who invite me to celebrations. I have colleagues who respect my work. I have a wife who loves me unconditionally. I have a life and my parents.
 Well, according to my cousin, things got worse. Rodrigo tried to start three different businesses. They all failed miserably. He now works in a warehouse earning minimum wage. He still lives with my parents because he can’t afford his own rent. My dad had to retire early from his job due to stress and health problems related to overwork.
He now survives on a meager pension. My mom is still working, hating every minute of it, dreaming of the lifestyle they used to have. The three of them live in that tiny apartment, constantly fighting about money, blaming each other for their situation. and I live in my beautiful house with my beautiful wife and my beautiful dog, completely free of their toxicity.
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