Chapter 3

At breakfast, Margaret sat unusually close, ladling out a bowl of soup for me with awkward stiffness.

"Tessa, I'm strict with you because I care," she said. "You understand that, don't you?"

Ethan chimed in, his tone rigid. "Tessa, we're all just trying to help you."

I didn't so much as glance at the soup. "Get to the point."

Margaret hesitated. "It's just… Charlotte needs someone with her at her riding lessons. She wants you to come along."

She pressed on, "Don't dismiss this so quickly. Charlotte's doing this for you. You'll never fit into our social circle if you don't even know how to ride. It's what all the elite families in the capital are doing now. The winner of the competition gets the best resources from the Wyncoll family.

"See how much Charlotte looks out for you? She's worried you'll feel left out, so she's making sure you're included."

Margaret had never babbled at me like this before.

Charlotte smiled sweetly. "It's nothing, Mom. I'm just looking out for my sister."

"Oh, is that right? Guess I should kiss your feet and sing your praises till the cows come home," I silently sneered.

My biological father, Andrew Goodwin, affectionately patted Charlotte's head. "Darling, you're so thoughtful."

"Wow, look at that. Picture-perfect family, huh?" I mused, the irony thick in my mind.

He turned to me, his gaze frosty. "Lose the attitude. Maybe you should learn a thing or two from Charlotte instead of acting like you were raised in a barn."

I shot back, "Mr. Goodwin, if I'm some barn-raised thing, then what does that make you? A rowdy rooster, or maybe a grumpy old mule?"

His face clouded over, and he slammed his palm down on the table. "Ridiculous!"

The other three scrambled after him.

Breakfast had been a total disaster.

I stayed at the table, happily finishing my meal.

At the riding arena, I watched those society girls showing off on their horses and shook my head.

"What kind of sorry nags are these? They actually let them on the course?" I thought.

They looked like my dad's failed breeding stock—no clue how someone managed to steal them and mass-produce so many.

Noticing me shaking my head, one girl on horseback laughed, "Tessa, what's wrong? Scared? Or worried you'll fall and make a fool of yourself? Riding's a lot tougher than shoveling horse manure, isn't it? Hahaha!"

Just then, Charlotte stormed back over, her face dark, a few blades of grass tangled in her hair.

Everyone rushed over to comfort her.

"Don't worry, Charlotte, this course is super tough. You did awesome, seriously, don't let it get to you," one girl said.

"Totally, Charlotte, it's gotta be the horse acting up!" another chimed in.

"C'mon, Charlotte, you've only been at it a few days and you've already nailed three obstacles! Keep going, you'll crush it in no time!"

Charlotte was still pouting, so someone's eyes darted around, landing on me.

"Hey Charlotte, why don't we take a break and watch something fun instead?"

One girl suggested, pointing straight at me. "Tessa! Wanna give this horse a go? Bet you've never ridden anything this fancy before, huh? Lucky day for you—no need to thank us!"

Charlotte was all too eager to play along, but she kept up her gentle act.

"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea. My sister's never ridden before—how could she handle a course like this? What if she gets hurt?"

The others snickered, "C'mon, Charlotte, what's the fuss? She's not gonna die from a little fall."

Charlotte looked at me, feigning indecision.

I pointed at myself. "Me? You sure about that?"

They smirked, mischief in their eyes. "What's wrong, Tessa? Getting cold feet?"

Under everyone's eager stares, I made my way to Charlotte's horse.

Charlotte's warning came a little too late. "Be careful, sis! That horse has a mean streak and might kick!"

Her voice was laced with barely concealed excitement.

Charlotte watched, wide-eyed, as I reached out my hand. The horse immediately nuzzled into my palm, cozying up like a docile puppy.

With practiced grace, I swung up into the saddle.

I pointed to the section they'd all labeled the most treacherous.

"There?" I asked.

Some stared, dumbfounded, at the horse's sudden gentleness; others couldn't help but mutter over how smoothly I'd mounted.

"That horse is usually a total terror! I'm petrified of it. Why's it all cuddly today? Must be some fluke!" someone whispered.

"Did you see that? Seriously, that's a flawless mount," another said.

"Ha, bet she drilled that move in secret just for today. Mark my words—she'll blow her cover the second she starts riding..." someone else scoffed.

I didn't linger for their reactions. Before they even finished their sniping, I tuned out the noise and took off, leaving them in the dust.

This training ground was no endless prairie—terrain unimpressive, horses run-of-the-mill. But after days off a horse, being back in the saddle felt incredible.

My clothes billowed in the wind, and that long-lost rush of freedom crashed over me.

With a sharp, clean dismount, I swung down from the horse.

Everyone's eyes were glued to me.

One guy, dazed, elbowed the person beside him. "Did you time that?"

The other, clutching a stopwatch, nodded numbly. "Cleared five obstacles in a row. Even faster than Charlotte on the easiest one."

"What the hell? That's wild," someone muttered.

"You know it ain't just about speed. Without skill, speed'll just get you killed faster," another person added.

They all flicked a look at Charlotte, exchanged wary glances, and clammed up.

With everyone watching, I strode right up to Charlotte, who was gnawing her lip, fixing me with a sharp, completely baffled glare.

I patted her shoulder.

"So if you can't cut it, don't blame the trail.

"And if you're the one dropping the ball? Don't pin it on the horse."

Charlotte's eyes flushed red, tears threatening. "You!"

Just then, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Didn't I say Mr. Vince Wyncoll was on his way? Which idiot's still riding around like they own the joint?

"Who was it? Show yourself!"

Everyone's eyes snapped at me.

Then a couple of them shoved me forward, pushed me straight into the center.

"Mr. Wyncoll, that was she! It had nothing to do with us!" someone blurted out.

Charlotte pasted on her most pitiful expression and screeched, "Tessa, how could you?"

A sudden crash of glass shattering on the floor broke the silence, making everyone jump.

"Damn it! The ground's a mess. How am I supposed to pick out a horse for the Lady now? Whoever did this, get your ass over here, now!" the voice barked.

That voice—something about it made me lift an eyebrow.