Chapter 3
Arthur gave her a stern look.
"Our family isn't so poor that we can't afford a few dresses. Don't make us look cheap."
My mother quickly chimed in.
"Yes, yes. Arthur is always so thoughtful."
She then turned and glared at me.
"Well? Thank your Stepfather Arthur."
I took the shopping bags.
"Thank you, Arthur."
Half an hour later, we entered the Sterling family estate.
The grand winding staircase and massive crystal chandeliers were breathtaking.
The luxury penthouse my dad had bought in my previous life seemed like a tiny shack compared to this palace.
But none of this mattered to me.
I carried my bags and quietly retreated to the bedroom my mother pointed out.
The room was huge. The bed was incredibly soft.
I lay down and closed my eyes.
A dull, throbbing pain was already starting to echo in my head.
At dinner, my mother was desperately trying to teach me table manners.
"Hold your fork and knife like this. And don't make disgusting noises when you eat your soup."
She was terrified I would embarrass her and ruin her status in this house.
Chloe sat across from me, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
She picked up a bowl of steaming hot soup and handed it to me.
"Here. Have some soup."
Just as I reached out to take it.
She intentionally let go too early.
The scalding hot soup spilled directly over the back of my hand.
Before I could even gasp, my mother was already shrieking.
"How could you be so careless!"
"Do you know how expensive that rug is?"
"Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up, now!"
She cared about the rug. She cared about her reputation.
She didn't care at all about my red, blistering skin.
I wiped my hand with a napkin, stood up, and bowed slightly.
"I'm sorry."
Arthur set down his utensils, his expression darkening.
"Chloe. Apologize."
Chloe rolled her eyes.
"It was an accident. She just didn't catch it."
Arthur's voice went cold.
"I won't say it again. Apologize."
Chloe muttered a half-hearted "sorry."
My mother quickly tried to play mediator.
"Oh, they're just kids playing around."
"Hazel has tough skin, she's fine. Arthur, please don't be mad at Chloe."
Arthur ignored my mother entirely. He slid a tube of burn ointment across the table to me.
"Go put this on."
I took the medicine.
"Thank you."
Back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed, gently applying the cream.
My phone rang. It was my dad.
The background was loud with the sounds of a rowdy bar and glasses clinking.
He took a drag of his cigarette, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"Hazel! Your old man is about to be filthy rich!"
"My lottery numbers are a guaranteed win!"
"But since you chose to go with your mother, don't think you can come back to beg for a single dime of my money."
"I have big plans for this cash."
"Just stay out of my way over there!"
I rubbed the ointment over the blisters on my hand, my voice completely flat.
"Okay. Hope you get rich."
I hung up. Suddenly, I heard soft footsteps outside.
My mother was standing at the door.
She pushed it open, looking at me with pure suspicion.
"Don't go calling your trashy father."
"Don't bring his peasant energy into this house."
"It took me years to secure my place here."
"Behave yourself, and don't drag me down with you."
I stared at her perfectly preserved face.
"Okay. I will."
She seemed satisfied with my submissive attitude and shut the door.
In the middle of the night, a migraine hit me like a sledgehammer.
It felt like my skull was being split open. A cold sweat broke out all over my body.
I pulled open my nightstand drawer. My bottle of painkillers was empty.
Clutching the wall, I slowly made my way downstairs to find some medicine.
The living room was pitch black.
I walked toward the patio, only to find Arthur standing there, apparently suffering from insomnia too.
He held a glass of red wine, staring out into the dark night.
Hearing me, he turned around.
Under the moonlight, he looked at my pale, lifeless eyes and spoke softly.
"Chloe's mother passed away when she was very young. That's why she acts like a porcupine."