I Told My Father I Failed the UPCAT… Then I Watched Him Reveal His Real Face

On the day of the UPCAT results, I stared at my 98.7th percentile score for a long time.

Then, I called my dad and said: “Dad, I didn’t come. I collapsed.”

He replied with only four words: “Get out of the house.”

I didn’t argue, I didn’t cry. I just picked up my bag and left.

A week later, he spent £200,000 on a lavish, grand party for my stepmother’s son—the kid who had just gotten a passing grade just right.

In the midst of the crowded hall, he raised his glass of wine, and a voice said in a low voice:

“My son’s talent, he’s brilliant. As a father, I couldn’t ask for more. It’s worth all my hard work.”

I just stood silently at the end of the crowd, under the stage, motionless.

I lied, and I had a deep reason.

1

The light from my cell phone screen hits my face. 98.7.

The red numbers were too bright, painful to the eye. I turned off the screen and the surroundings inside my bedroom grew darker.

From the living room, I could hear the sound of the TV and the screaming of that woman.

He said: “Chelsea are definitely going to be in the top leagues. We’ve got to make a big play.”

My father’s voice—Arturo Reyes—was filled with joy:

“Of course. My son should be proud and be a hero.”

My son. Those three words were like a needle pricking through my ear

.

I looked up his number and called him. After two rings, he answered.

“Hello?” There was a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Dad, the results are out.”

“Some?”

“I’m down, Dad. I got low.”

I heard his deep, violent breath coming from the other end of the line.

Then a deafening silence prevailed. A few seconds passed before his voice was heard again as cold as ice:

“Honey, I’m going to feed you, I’m going to feed you, I’m going to take care of you, I’m going to take care of you, I’m going to take care of you, I’m going to take care of you, I’m going to take care of you, I’m going to take care of you, I’m going to take care of you, I’m going to take care of you, I

“Where am I going to put my face?”

“You embarrassed me so much!”

Her voice grew louder, almost crying:

“Don’t come back here. There is no place for the useless in this house. Get out!”

The call was interrupted. The sound of a tut-tut was all that remained in the silent room.

I didn’t move. There was no emotion on my face, not even in my heart.

Half a month ago, one day after my 18th birthday.

I made my way past Dad’s library, and the door wasn’t much shut.

I heard the voice of my stepmother, Celia:

“Diane is 18. That house that her mother left behind, when are you planning to fix it? Lala wants to study abroad, in Australia or Canada, and the cost there is no joke. You don’t have enough salary.”

“It’s a great place to live in Chicago, and if we sell it, we’re going to get millions. We can invest in the future of Lala, and make our lives better.”

Dad was silent for a moment before answering:

“But his mother left it for him. It was clearly written in his last will and testament.”

Celia’s voice grew louder:

“Will? When he was a child, what did he know about the law? You Are The Father! You have the right to make decisions for him. Or maybe you’re still thinking about your dead husband, and not Layla?”

Silence again. Longer. Then, I heard Arturo’s sigh:

“Come on, let’s stop fighting. I will find a way. With the help of the “SmackDown” team, it might just be a good idea to go to college. The day will come when they will take pity on me.”

“If that happens, I’m going to give him a thumbs up. He couldn’t do anything.”

My whole body was stunned by what I heard.

That’s it. That is why they treated me that way.

My mother passed away early, and that house was her only memory. Fearing that I would be raped, he had a legal document drawn up early on with the help of a lawyer.

The house is named after me, but I have to be 18 to have full control over it.

They had been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.

I went back to my room and locked the door. All of my remaining hopes or love for my “dad” have completely collapsed.

I grabbed my phone, turned on the voice recorder, and hid it behind a burner next to the library door.

The next day I picked up the phone. Their detailed plan was recorded there—how to trick me and how to forge the land transfer documents.

Sabi ni Papa:

“If the result comes out and he falls, I’m going to kick him out. He knew that he would not be able to live without his home. If he doesn’t have a place to stay and he’s hungry, I’ll throw him some coins, that’s definitely what I want.”

There is no stain of love. There is no mercy.

I saved that recording to multiple folders and cloud storage. Now the right time has come.

I stood up and turned on the light. I didn’t have a lot of clothes on, it fit in a suitcase.

I sorted out my things, including the contents of my drawer underneath. A small wooden box.

There was a picture of my mother and a copy of the will. The original was in the hands of the lawyer. I also found the title to the land. I didn’t know where I was, but my mom had been looking for me for a long time.

I put it all in my suitcase. Along with my ID, birth certificate, and ATM card. There are a few thousand pesos there, saved from previous Christmases and birthdays. That’s enough.

I closed the zipper of the suitcase. I can still hear them laughing in the living room, celebrating Lala’s “victory.” It’s funny.

When I got to the door, I stopped. I went back to what they call “home” for the last time. I don’t feel any regret anymore.

I went outside and the cold night air greeted me. I didn’t look back.

I swear, when I get back, I’ll take everything back that is mine. There is another interest.

2

I walked with my suitcase under the lampposts.

My phone was vibrating. A message from Aunt Susan.

“Honey, I’ve been cooking a sandwich. When are you going to get here?”

Aunt Susan was my mother’s best friend. Ever since my mom went missing, she’s been the only person who honestly cares and cares about me.

Nag-reply like: “Tita, papunta na po ako.”

I went to Aunt Susan’s condo in Mandaluyong. Looking out the window at the city lights, my heart sank.

There is no anger, no sadness. It is just a firm stance.

The car stopped in front of the building. I paid the driver and went into the lobby.

Aunt Susan was on the 5th floor. He opened the door as soon as he saw me.

“Dianne! What happened? “Why do you have a suitcase?”

“Auntie, can you stay here for a few days?” she asked quietly.

Aunt Susan immediately pulled me in and grabbed my suitcase.

“Oh my gosh! This could be it! The Passover is here. “Are you going to give me a piece of meat, Arturo?”

There was compassion in his eyes.

I shook my head. “He kicked me out.”

I showed him the call log and his message “Get out.”

Aunt Susan trembled with anger. “What a shame that this guy is! How did he do that?”

He sat me down and gave me a cup of hot tea.

“Don’t worry, Auntie is here. What exactly happened? Is it because of the results of the exam?”

I nodded. “I told him I was screwed.”

Auntie’s brow furrowed.

“Impossible. You’re such a smart kid, how could that be…”

“Auntie, I plan this,” I said as I looked straight at her.

Then I played the recording on my phone.

Hearing Arturo and Celia’s cold and cunning plans, Aunt Susan turned pale.

After the recording, he was silent for a long time before sighing, eyes filled with tears.

“Your mother… Her choice of man was wrong. “Dianne, I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

I grabbed Auntie’s hand. “Auntie, I’m not having any trouble. I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do.”

Aunt looked at me, from pity to admiration.

“Good boy. You’ve got to be brave. You’re smarter than your father.”

He stood up. “Stay here, I’ll support you. Just say what you need.”

Tumango ako.

“Auntie, I need you to keep my secret. Don’t let anyone know that I’m here.”

“Over the next few days, I might have to help you with a drama.”

Aunt Susan didn’t hesitate. “No problem.”

He led me to the guest room. Not big but clean and tidy.

“Take a break. Don’t think about everything in the first place. Even if the world is falling apart, you have a foundation in it.”

Lying on the bed, I could smell the smell of fresh laundry blankets. It was the first time I had ever felt so comfortable since I left home.

But I know that this is not the time to give up. The show has just begun.

The next day, I woke up on my own. Aunt Susan’s breakfast was ready.

After dinner, I asked him to come out.

I went to a large computer center, logged into the official website of the university. I entered my application number and password.

98.7 percentile score. It ranks 89th nationwide.

I screenshotted it and printed ten copies, I put them neatly in a brown envelope.

Next, I went to the bank and took all my limited money.

Finally, I called someone.

This is the lawyer my mother trusted when she was alive—Atty. Santos.

The lawyer answered.

“Atty. Santos, yes Dianne poito.”

Atty. Santos’ voice was calm:

“Dianne, yes. I remember you. What can I do to help?”

“Atty, I am 18. It’s time to take mine back.”