Chapter 3

Dinner was so tense that the air felt thick.

Beverly was putting on a whole show of motherly love, constantly loading Leila's plate and even peeling shrimp for her.

"Leila, you've gotten thin lately. Here, have more." Beverly fussed.

Leila shot me a challenging look, then turned on the sweetness. "Thanks, Mom. You're the best."

Harold kept pouring Leila more milk without her even asking. The three of them laughed and chatted, wrapped up in their own little circle, while I sat there like part of the furniture.

The system was going nuts. "Flip the table! Quick. Pour that milk right over her head."

I kept my head down, eating fast but with good manners—no mess, no drama.

Years of rushed office lunches had trained me to finish a meal in five minutes flat. Break time was precious.

Eventually, Beverly seemed to remember I existed. She reached over and placed a pork chop on my plate.

"Don't just eat carbs, Claire. Have some protein too.," she said.

It had pieces of bell pepper on it—the kind Leila always left on the side of her plate.

I just looked at it. Didn't touch it.

Leila piped up right away, her voice all sweet and fake. "Oh, do you not like it? I guess you didn't get food like this out in the sticks where you came from, right?"

I set my fork down and dabbed my mouth with a napkin.

"Nope, just full," I said.

I stood and gave a slight, formal nod to both Harold and Beverly.

"The meal was excellent. Thank you. If you'll excuse me, I'll head back to my room. I have some work to finish," I said.

Harold looked a bit surprised. "Work? You just got back. Won't you stay and spend some time with the family?"

I glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Well, it's 7:30 PM—prime personal time. Besides, you all seem to be having a great family moment. It'd be rude for the new intern—sorry, the new member—to intrude. I know how to read a room," I said.

With that, I turned and walked away, leaving the three of them looking totally lost.

I overheard Beverly mutter, "What is with this kid? She acts like a polite little robot. There's no warmth in her at all."

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

Warmth? That required first being treated like a person.

In their eyes, I was just an intruder with matching DNA. Asking for anything more would be pushing it. Sticking to the rules? That was easier for everyone.

*****

Early the next morning, an unexpected guest showed up at Shaw Manor.

It was Nathan Cooper, Leila's fiancé—the one who was supposed to be mine.

The guy looked like a catalog model—tailored suit, perfect hair—but his judgment was completely impaired.

He walked in just as I was heading out for the day (which really meant walking to the public library to use their air conditioning and save on my own electric bill).

Without saying a word, Nathan pulled out a check and flicked it at me like I was a beggar on the street.

It fluttered to the floor.

"One and a half million dollars. Take it and get lost. I don't do charity cases from the countryside," he sneered, sounding every bit the spoiled rich kid.

He stood there looking down at me, oozing that lazy, inherited authority.

Leila was smirking at the top of the stairs, clearly loving the drama.

The system was so worked up that its voice practically broke. "Rip up the check! Throw it in his face. Shout 'don't underestimate the poor'. The tables always turn."

I bent down and picked up the check.

I checked the amount, the signature, and the bank seal. All valid.

Then I pulled out a small notebook and a pen from my bag.

"Mr. Cooper, just a sec," I said.

I scribbled a few lines, tore the page out, and handed it to Nathan.

He took it without thinking, glanced at the note, and just froze.

"What's this?" he asked.

"A receipt," I replied, flashing a professional smile. "You're issuing a severance payment. It's best to formalize the transaction to prevent any future misunderstandings. This states that I have received 1.5 million dollars from you as full settlement to voluntarily dissolve the engagement. Terms are final—no returns, no disputes."

He stared at me as if I'd just grown a second head. "You... you're really just accepting this?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" I carefully tucked the check between the pages of my notebook. "Honestly, this is fair. Forcing a relationship never works, and you even tossed in 1.5 million dollars as a breakup fee. That's top-tier. You're a very generous counterparty, Mr. Cooper."

I even added, ever so considerately, "Would you like me to write a thank-you letter to your company, or post online to say I'm not good enough for you?"

Nathan's face flushed a deep, furious red.

He opened his mouth to fire back, but found no words—my logic had disarmed him completely.