Chapter 2
My dad continued, "Claire is the apple of our eye. She is kind. She is brilliant. She is our greatest pride."
He went on and on. Every word was a hammer smashing into my heart.
The apple of their eye. Then what about me? What about the biological daughter they abandoned for eighteen years?
I watched Mom look at Claire with pure adoration.
Jason stood right behind Claire like her loyal knight.
They were the real family. Warm, happy, and inseparable.
My knuckles turned white against my glass.
Suddenly, My dad changed the subject. "We also have another family member here tonight. Hazel."
The spotlight swung over and pinned me to the wall. I froze like a deer in the headlights, blinded by the glare.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"So that is the real daughter they dragged out of the sticks?"
"She looks so plain. You cannot even compare her to Claire."
"I heard she is totally feral. Zero manners."
My dad's voice echoed from the speakers. It dripped with fake charity. "Hazel just came home. She is still adjusting.
"Please be patient with her. I hope she can learn a thing or two from Claire and become more sensible."
My face burned under their stares.
This was not an introduction. It was a public execution.
He was airing out my flaws just to make Claire look perfect.
The spotlight finally flicked off. I fell back into the comforting dark.
But their glaring eyes stuck to me like leeches.
A waiter rolled a massive cake cart past me.
Right then, Claire picked up her skirts and ran over to me from the stage.
She wore a sickeningly sweet smile. "Hazel, Dad is calling you. Let's go cut the cake together."
She grabbed my wrist before I could even process it.
Then, in a split second that no one else saw, she shoved her foot right into my path.
My eyes went wide. My body pitched forward, completely out of control.
The giant birthday cake hit the floor with me. Frosting and fruit splattered everywhere.
The entire room went dead silent.
Time froze.
Every single pair of eyes locked onto me. Shock. Disgust. Pure glee.
Claire gasped. Tears welled up in her eyes.
She looked at me like the ultimate victim. "Hazel... I know you hate me. But why would you push me? Dad ordered this cake just for me."
She did not yell, but her voice echoed to every corner of the quiet room.
I didn't. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. An invisible hand wrapped tightly around my throat.
A sharp slap landed squarely on my face. A burning sting spread from my cheek to my scalp.
It was my mom. She charged at me with bloodshot eyes, looking like an enraged lioness.
"Hazel! You little psycho! When is this going to end?" She pointed at the ruined cake on the floor, her voice shrill. "Are you going to keep pitching fits until Claire's birthday is completely ruined?
"How can you be so vicious?!"
I clutched my cheek and stared at her in disbelief.
She didn't ask what happened. She didn't give me a chance to explain. She just instantly condemned me.
It was happening again. It was always like this.
It was the exact same story a year ago.
During the school art festival, a stage light suddenly came loose. Claire was standing right under it.
I didn't even think. I just rushed over and shoved her out of the way.
The falling metal smashed into my arm instead, tearing a long gash that bled everywhere.
But when the teachers and our family rushed over, Claire sobbed. She claimed I was jealous of her getting the lead dance role and pushed her on purpose so she would get hurt.
I lay in the hospital bed with over a dozen stitches in my arm.
When my mom came to visit, she just glared at me. "Hazel, Claire doesn't have a malicious bone in her body. Keep your trailer park schemes away from her."
My dad was even more direct.
He threw a wad of cash onto my bedside table. "This will cover your medical bills. Stay away from Claire. She's not like you."
That was the day I finally understood. The truth didn't matter.
Whatever they chose to believe was the truth.
Now, looking at my mom's twisted, angry face, the very last spark of hope in my heart died.
I slowly lowered my hand to reveal a clear red handprint on my cheek.
I didn't cry. I didn't explain. I just looked at her calmly. "Are you done?"