Chapter 2

The family dinner that night was meant to welcome me back, and the long table was packed with fancy food, but I just felt totally out of place.

Edith had changed into a white dress and sat right across from me, her eyes looking teary and red.

Linda didn't even look at me nicely once the whole time, just kept doting on Edith and loading her plate with food.

"Edith, eat more. You had a tough day, so have some more food so you can sleep well tonight," Linda said.

Edith replied softly, "Mom, please don't say that. It's not Serena's fault. I'm the older sister, and I should've done better. Dad was right to scold me."

I scoffed inwardly, kept my head down, and jabbed at the steak on my plate with my fork and knife, making an irritating noise.

Linda frowned and snapped, "Serena, can you not make a scene? That's not how you use those."

I was so startled that my hand shook, and the fork and knife clattered to the floor.

I jumped up, flustered, and bowed. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I've never used these before, I..."

Before I could finish, my eyes started to well up.

Edith jumped up right away, worry all over her face, and handed me a fresh napkin. "Serena, are you alright? Did that freak you out?" she asked gently.

Then she turned to Julia, the housekeeper. "Julia, could you help Serena out? Steak's easier to cut if you go against the grain. Maybe you could show her, so she doesn't end up hurting herself."

I shot Edith a grateful look before giving Julia an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, Julia, I'm kinda clueless with this stuff. Hope I'm not being too much trouble."

I kept saying I was clueless, but honestly, I picked it up pretty fast.

With Julia guiding me, I quickly got the hang of it and even started asking follow-up questions about table etiquette, coming off as an eager learner who just wanted to do things right.

Edith's smile stiffened for a moment, like she hadn't expected me to fit in so smoothly.

Linda noticed right away and jumped in to help Edith out, dropping a piece of foie gras onto her plate. "Edith, you're just so kind and patient, unlike some people who can't even act properly and are all thorns and attitude."

I turned to Richard, my eyes welling up with tears. "Dad, I'm sorry. I keep messing things up and making things harder for you. Please don't be upset. Maybe I should just not eat, so I won't drag everyone down."

Richard was leisurely slicing his steak, but when he heard me, his movements paused.

He looked up at me, his eyes deep and unreadable.

"Just eat," he said.

Richard's attempt to smooth things over only made the atmosphere at the table feel even weirder.

Linda rolled her eyes with a huff, let out a dismissive snort, and didn't say another word.

Edith probably realized that these petty tricks weren't bothering me at all, so she decided to switch tactics.

She grabbed her phone, snapped a photo of the food on the table, and started typing away.

She used a local gossip account to post an update, and then deliberately showed me her phone.

She said, "Serena, your phone is seriously ancient. I bet it only gets 2G signals, huh? Anyway, this is my latest post. Not gonna lie, you're actually pretty photogenic."

I took the phone and started scrolling with genuine interest. The post featured the photo Edith had just taken, along with a sneaky shot of me awkwardly hunched over, struggling to cut my steak.

The caption read: [High Society Scandal: The real heiress is back, but she clearly can't handle the upper-class life. Tonight's dinner was a mess, and the poor Edith fake heiress had to step in and save the day.]

The comments section was already blowing up.

Netizens: [I'm cracking up. Never seen anyone so out of place. Her country vibes are off the charts.]

[Feel bad for Edith, honestly. Not only does she have to split her parents' attention, but now she has to babysit this farm-raised sister. Must be exhausting.]

[Guys, look at her. The real heiress doesn't look too bright. Ugh, can't stand dumb people.]

I handed the phone back to her, picked up my wine glass, and flashed Edith a sweet, adoring smile.

I said, "Edith, the photo you took is so good. And you have so many followers. I want to take photos, too. Wow, this glass is gorgeous, just like those in the TV shows."

Copying her, I pulled out my ancient smartphone from ten years ago and snapped a shot of the wine glass. I forgot to turn off the flash, and it shone in Edith's eyes.

Her face twisted in annoyance, but she forced a smile. "Glad you like it, Serena."

I ignored her and uploaded the photo to my own account.

I started this account as soon as I moved in, and I named it "Songbird's Journey".

The caption read: [Moved into my new home today. Mom, Dad, and my sister have all been so sweet to me. But I'm so clumsy. I could barely hold the glass and almost spilled my sister's fancy wine from 1982.

[That was close. Gotta work hard and learn fast so I don't embarrass them again!]

I posted it with hashtags: [Documenting My New Life] and [Trying to Be Better].

The photo I posted was the one I'd just taken, looking blurry.

Once I was done posting, I set my phone aside, grabbed my wine glass, and made my way over to Edith's side.

"Here's to you, Edith. No matter what, thanks for stepping in for me today, and for snapping such a cute pic of me," I said.

Edith raised her glass, her lips curling into a smug smile.

Just as our glasses were about to clink, my hand slipped, and the entire glass of red wine went flying, drenching her white dress from top to bottom.

Spilling red wine was a classic move. It never got old, especially when the rich were always trying to flex with their fancy drinks.