Chapter 4

On the drive home, I made a detour. I couldn't stop myself. I ended up right back at that damn cake shop.

I knew I shouldn't, but the ghost of that bittersweet matcha flavor still lingered on my tongue, a craving that felt more like a compulsion.

Before I knew it, I was walking out with another slice. The bag felt heavier than it should, weighted down by a secret no one else could see.

When I pushed open the front door, the living room was ablaze with light.

Charlotte was draped affectionately over my mother's shoulder, the two of them sharing a private laugh. On the coffee table was a tray of delicate pastries.

Heat still radiated from the cookies the housekeeper, Mona Baker, had just pulled from the oven. Next to them sat a strawberry cream cake with a slice cut out. It looked so pink and delicate that it looked like a staged fairytale.

The whole scene was so sickeningly perfect that it burned.

I was her actual flesh and blood, but she treated me with a polite distance that felt colder than hate.

Meanwhile, Charlotte, the girl who had stolen my life, got to nestle into my mother's arms, soaking up an affection she had no right to, as if it were her birthright.

My mother, Lily Grant, heard me, and her smile vanished. Her brow furrowed. "Where have you been? It's late," she snapped.

I lifted the small paper bag, answering, "I went out to get some cake."

Her eyes flicked to the bag, showing her disgust. "What's so good about that cheap, artificial junk? Mona made a strawberry cream cake and those cookies you love. Throw that garbage out and have some of these."

I almost laughed. She listed off all of Charlotte's favorites, but there wasn't a single dish that I actually liked.

A smirk pulled at my lips. "Too bad," I said, my voice light and airy. "I guess I just have a taste for 'cheap junk.'"

Lily froze, clearly stunned that I had talked back.

Charlotte immediately jumped to her feet, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Olivia, Mom is just worried about you. How can you speak to her like that?"

I hated it when she played the role of the gentle, understanding martyr, acting as though the world should thank her just for breathing.

I let out a sharp laugh, retorting, "I'm talking to my mother. Since when is this any of your business?"

I paused, letting the silence hang before adding, "Besides, who said you could speak?"

The color drained from her face. Her lips trembled as she fought to maintain her composure.

The old me would have backed down, swallowed the hurt, and kept the fragile peace. But I was done pretending.

Lily immediately pulled Charlotte into a protective embrace, yelling with disapproval, "Olivia, how can you say that? She may not be our blood, but she is just as much my daughter as you are."

A smile twisted my lips, but it was mocking and heartbreaking all at once.

"Right. Of course. She's your precious daughter," I said, my voice sharp with irony. "I'm just the outsider."

I turned to leave, but as I passed Charlotte, I slowed, leaned in close to her ear, and dropped my voice to a venomous whisper. "So, Charlotte, you have a thing for Edward, don't you?"

Her entire body went rigid. Her head snapped up, eyes wide with panic, the tips of her ears flushing a tell-tale red. "What are you... You're talking crazy."

Seeing her deny it just made it more fun. I let out a low chuckle and delivered the final blow. "You don't? Good. You should probably stay that way. Because he's just my sloppy seconds," I said.

She shot to her feet, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her chest heaving. She looked like she wanted to scream at me, but the words wouldn't come.

I felt fantastic. I grabbed my cake and practically bounced up the stairs.