Chapter 2

I gave him a wry smile and flashed an "OK" sign.

When I turned around, the Hermans's eyes were on me, each gaze filled with mixed, unreadable emotions.

I met their stares with indifference. Inside, I felt nothing at all.

For the past eighteen years living with my adoptive mother, Meagan, as long as I could survive, have enough to eat, and keep tinkering with the machines I loved, nothing else really mattered to me.

As for this sudden "homecoming", at best it just meant I might get a more spacious garage in the future.

The girl who had been on the verge of tears moments ago now wore a perfectly measured look of remorse.

She said to me, her voice barely above a whisper, "Stella, I'm Carly. I'm sorry. I stole eighteen years of your life..."

As she spoke, her eyes welled up with fresh tears, ready to spill at any moment.

My so-called father cleared his throat and let out a sigh, while my mother and brother once again scrambled to comfort her in a flurry of anxious gestures.

I clicked my tongue impatiently. I really couldn't stand these melodramatic tears.

If tears actually worked, I would've flooded the Pacific during those eighteen years when all I wanted was a full meal and to escape the beatings.

I said to her, "You're... Carly, right? Could you cut it out for a sec?

"It's only been half an hour since we met, and you've already staged two crying scenes. Anyone would think you were the one suffering these years. Stop stealing my tragic heroine spotlight. I'm not yet in the mood for my performance."

Carly's sobs cut off instantly, her face frozen. The rest of the Hermans looked just as stunned. A dead silence fell over the car.

I couldn't be bothered with them, so I turned away and gazed out the window, watching the street scenes blur past.

The skyscrapers I'd only ever seen in financial magazines were now right before my eyes, almost within reach.

This was my first time experiencing the city's dazzling bustle and glamour up close.

After a long, awkward pause, my mother finally broke the silence.

She said, "Stella, I'm sorry. Carly didn't mean it like that. She's just too kind-hearted and sensitive, so she gets emotional easily. She truly feels guilty about what happened to you."

My father kept nodding.

My brother, Bryce, frowned, his gaze at me filled with helplessness and an unmistakable hint of disdain.

"Stella, Carly is just worried that after you come back, we might start ignoring her. Must you be so hard on her?" he said.

He spared me a glance. "And once you're home, you really need to change those bad habits. Just look at your getup and those hobbies—does that look like how a girl should behave? How can a girl spend all day with cold machinery and hang out with such a questionable crowd?

"Someone like Carly—gentle, elegant, well-mannered, and well-educated—that's what a proper young lady from a distinguished family should be."

Although he tried to sound gentle, the unyielding command in his tone was crystal clear.

His words voiced exactly what the Hermans were thinking, and my parents nodded.

Even that fake heiress, Carly, cooed in her signature understanding tone, "That's right, Stella. Those hobbies really aren't suitable for girls.

"You shouldn't be hanging out with those guys all the time. I heard your grades weren't... great before—must be their bad influence."

She smiled sweetly and added, "Once we're home, I can tutor you. My walk-in closet is full of designer clothes. You can pick anything you like. They're all the latest styles Mom, Dad, and Bryce bought for me. We can dress to impress the world together. Isn't it nice?"

Hearing her phony sweetness laced with backhanded taunts, I could only laugh in bitter disbelief. Yet the Hermans just looked at her with even more approval and affection, as if she were some paragon of virtue.

I let out a derisive snort, drawing disapproving looks from the Hermans.

I replied coolly, "But the entry and material fees for my Mechanical Design Competition every year—even the fact that I'm still alive—were all scraped together by the questionable crowd you look down on.

"All of this thanks to your mother Meagan.

"And you, my dear brother. You're so smart, so you should be able to figure out why I'm Stella Whitehead but not taking Meagan's last name, right?"

A dead silence fell over the car again, with every face now twisting in discomfort. Bryce, who had been so self-righteous just moments ago, now averted his eyes, unable to meet my gaze.

Carly's face burned crimson with humiliation. She clutched the hem of her skirt so tightly that her nails nearly drew blood from her palms.

I sneered inwardly.

Did that pampered greenhouse flower, even venomous, really think she could outmatch a thorny flower that clawed its way up from the swamp?