The Real Daughter Said I Copied Her？Oops, My Test Was Blank Chapter 08
Van Buren’s words hit the Walsh family like a sledgehammer.
Patrick looked like he was already drowning in regret.
The way he looked at me—shock, remorse, and something else. A glint of greed buried deep in his eyes.
“Lena…”
Patrick reached for my hand.
“I—I was just angry earlier. I wasn’t thinking. You know I’ve always cared about you the most.”
“None of this was your fault—it was Sophia. She misled all of us. Don’t take it to heart.”
“Come on, tell Professor Van Buren—you’re a Walsh. You can’t live in some school apartment. We have a whole house…”
I stepped back, avoiding his touch. My gaze was cold—like I was looking at a stranger.
“Mr. Walsh. You have a short memory.”
“Less than an hour ago, you told me to get out of the Walsh family. That you didn’t have a daughter like me.”
“And that slap? I remember that too.”
Patrick’s face went stiff. He forced a laugh.
“Those were just words—anger talking… families fight, but we don’t hold grudges, right?”
“Eleanor—say something. Talk to Lena.”
Eleanor snapped out of it and rushed over, ready to play the heart card.
“Yes—Lena, your mother was confused too. I’m sorry, alright?”
“We raised you for eighteen years. Blood or not, the love was real.”
“Now that you’re doing so well, we’re proud of you. Let’s just be a family again—don’t let strangers come between us.”
Family?
I almost laughed out loud.
In my last life, I’d curled up like a stray dog in a Boston underpass, begging for warmth from these so-called “family” members—and they’d thrown me away like garbage.
Now that I had value, suddenly we were “family” again?
“Sorry. I don’t make a habit of calling my enemies family.”
I pulled a debit card from my pocket.
It was the allowance card the Walshes had given me—every cent I’d saved over eighteen years.
I hadn’t touched a dime.
“There’s about sixty thousand dollars on this card. Consider it a token of thanks for the last few years.”
“As for the earlier expenses—I’ll transfer what Massachusetts law requires, with interest, to your account.”
“From today on, we go our separate ways.”
I set the card on the floor beside Patrick’s feet, then turned to Van Buren.
“Professor. Let’s go.”
Van Buren gave me an approving look—the faintest trace of a smile appeared on his face.
“Good. You’ve got spine. That’s exactly why it took me three years to find you.”
“A family like that—no sense of right or wrong, only profit. You’re better off without them. Come on—I’ll take you to see the Charles River.”
In front of everyone—amid stares of envy, jealousy, and sheer disbelief—I got into Van Buren’s car.
As the door closed, I caught Sophia’s glare through the window. It burned like she wanted to set me on fire.
Patrick and Eleanor stood under the portico, their faces gray and hollow, like two statues left out in the rain.
But I didn’t care anymore.
The news of my MIT recruitment spread through Boston like wildfire.
But that wasn’t enough.
Three months into my first semester at MIT, I released a brand-new AI algorithm as an independent developer.
A logistics route optimization system based on topological data analysis—it quadrupled warehouse sorting efficiency while costing only a tenth of what existing technology did.
The day of the launch, the tech world went into overdrive.
Investors waved checks from every direction, but I only accepted one partnership.
Sterling Aerospace.
Walsh Capital’s biggest rival in the logistics sector.
At the signing ceremony, cameras flashed nonstop.
One reporter recognized me and shoved a microphone in my face:
“Ms. Walsh—I hear Walsh Capital’s main business is logistics. You developed this technology and you’re giving exclusive rights to their biggest competitor. Is this personal revenge?”
I looked straight into the lens, smiled, and kept my voice calm:
“Business is business. Technological progress is inevitable.”
“As for Walsh Capital… sorry, what was that? Not familiar.”