Chapter 3
Juliana and Ashlynn exchanged a glance.
Something subtle flashed in their eyes.
Sharon bit her lip, feeling a surge of anxiety.
"That's nonsense." Sharon shot back. "My mother gave this to me."
I sneered. "Go check Aurora House's records. It's my name on the receipt."
Maya hurried over, her face twisted with anger.
She jabbed a finger at me. "How dare you! Still flaunting your ill-gotten gains.
"How dare you." she snapped.
"Lady Sharon is doing you a huge favor by wearing your stuff. She's doing you a favor, cleansing your bad karma."
Maya turned to Sharon. "Don't bother with her, Lady Sharon. She's beyond saving."
Sharon tugged Juliana and Ashlynn along.
"Let's go," she said. "This is such bad luck."
They hurried off.
Maya turned around, her face twisted with anger as she fixed her glare on me.
"You really need to have your mouth stitched shut," she snapped.
"Servants." Maya barked.
"Lady Joyce is absolutely incorrigible. From today onward, stop sending ice to her courtyard. Halve her meals from now on. She's only allowed to eat coarse bread."
Two older servants stepped forward.
"Yes," they replied in unison.
*****
Night fell, and my courtyard felt like a sauna, suffocatingly hot.
Eliza walked in, carrying a chipped bowl.
Inside were two yellowed bread.
Eliza's face was badly swollen.
Her eyes were red as she said, "Miss Joyce, the cooks said this is tonight's dinner."
I took the bowl from her and broke the bread in half.
A dead bug tumbled out from inside.
Eliza burst into tears. "This is just cruel! I'll go plead with Lord Foster."
I held Eliza back.
"It's useless to beg him," I said. "He's letting it happen. And he's in a rage right now."
I tossed the bread onto the table and said, "I'm not eating this. Missing one meal won't kill me."
*****
Early the next morning, I went to the main courtyard.
I stepped into the main courtyard.
My father was enjoying his morning meal.
The table was laid out with more than a dozen exquisite breakfast dishes.
Paola was serving him oatmeal.
I stood at the doorway and called out, "Father."
He looked up at me.
"Done emptying the chamber pots?" His voice was icy. "Do you even realize what you did wrong?"
I gestured toward the door.
"Maya stopped my meals," I said. "Is this really how things work in the Foster family? Does Maya have the right to starve the eldest daughter whenever she wants?"
My father slammed his fork down on the table.
"Nonsense," he snapped. "Maya is teaching you a lesson in frugality. Just look at yourself. You're brimming with hostility. Is this how a noble lady should behave?"
Paola walked over and took my hand.
"Joyce," she said softly, "don't hold it against Maya. She's only doing this for your own good. You stood up to Sharon yesterday. You embarrassed her in front of everyone. Maya was understandably angry."
I pulled my hand away from Paola.
"Let me ask just one thing," I said. "Is this house run by the Fosters, or by Maya?"
My father stood up abruptly and slapped me right across the face.
"How dare you!" he barked. "You think you can question your own father?"
"You think you can question your own father?" he thundered, his eyes blazing with fury.
My head snapped to the side from the force of the slap.
My ears were ringing.
"Get back to your courtyard," he roared. "Don't you take a single step outside your courtyard without my permission."
I pressed my hand to my stinging cheek.
I turned around. Step by step, I walked back to my courtyard.
At the courtyard gate, Maya was leading two older maids, carrying things out.
They were taking away a renowned painting from the previous dynasty—the only thing my birth mother had left me.
I stormed over and stood in their way.
"Put it down." I barked.
Maya stood her ground, not backing down an inch.
"Lady Joyce, I've already consulted Lady Paola about this painting.
"Lady Paola told me that keeping these extravagant things will only make you lose yourself in indulgence.
"I'll take this painting to the pawnshop myself. The money will go to the Children's Relief Society. Maybe it'll help you build up some virtue."
I stared Maya down, refusing to back off, my eyes blazing with anger.
"That's my dowry." I snapped.
Maya gave a mocking laugh. "Once you're part of the Foster family, everything here belongs to us.
"Just a single girl who hasn't even married yet—what would you need a dowry for?"
"Get out of the way." One of the older maids forcefully pushed me aside.
I went sprawling on the ground.
My palms were scraped raw.
Maya towered over me, looking down with undisguised contempt.
"Lady Joyce," she said. "That's the price for breaking the rules."
With a contemptuous flick of her hand, Maya ordered the maids to take the painting away.
I sat on the ground, powerless to do anything.
I watched as the door slowly closed, shutting me out.
Through the narrow gap, I caught a glimpse of Maya's smug grin, her triumph written all over her face.
I was put under house arrest.
The courtyard gate was bolted shut from the outside.
The food got even worse.
Sometimes all I got was a bowl of sour, rotten broth.
Other times, it was nothing but hard, moldy bread.
Eliza was always in tears.