Chapter 2

The next morning, I was jolted awake by someone trying to break down my door.

Zara screeched through the wood like nails on a chalkboard.

"Nora! Do you have any idea what time it is? Are you dead in there? The entire family is waiting for breakfast! Are you trying to starve my grandson?"

I rolled over and grabbed my phone.

It was 6:30 AM.

Normally, I would have been up for an hour by now.

I would already be at the organic farmers' market, hunting for the most pristine ingredients. Edward insisted on his steel-cut oatmeal, which was slow-cooked for forty minutes with exactly three drops of organic honey to soothe his stressed stomach.

Zara demanded her egg white frittata with baby spinach and zero oil, because she was watching her macros.

Chloe refused to touch anything except avocado toast on sourdough, but the crusts had to be removed with surgical precision, or she would throw a tantrum.

And then there was Prince, their golden retriever, who sat there like canine royalty waiting for his daily shredded poached chicken breast.

After all that, I would spend the next two hours running around like a headless chicken, laying out everyone's clothes and helping them get ready before finally sitting down at eight o'clock to eat whatever scraps were left on the table.

Today, the only thing I cared about was how gloriously warm my bed was.

The pounding got louder. Chloe's voice joined the chorus, shrill enough to shatter glass.

"Nora! Are you deaf? Where is my silk blouse? I have a speech competition today. If I can't find it, you're fucking doomed."

I pushed off the covers, took my sweet time getting dressed, and opened the door at my own pace.

Zara and Chloe stood in the hallway, radiating fury.

The moment Zara saw my messy hair and pajamas, she looked livid. Her hand shot up with her index finger aimed directly at my face.

"Have you lost your mind? We have a guest in this house, and you can't even be bothered to wake up? Emily is sitting downstairs without so much as a cup of coffee, and this is what the lady of the house does?"

I tilted my head just enough to dodge her jabbing finger.

"If you're not using that hand for anything useful," I said calmly, "maybe consider cutting it. Stop pointing it at my face."

Zara froze. Her hand hung in mid-air, her mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land.

"You... What did you just say? You dare talk back to me?" she yelled.

I leaned against the doorframe, stating flatly, "I said, if you want breakfast, make it yourself. If you want coffee, pour it yourself. I marry Edward Grant. I am not a servant your family hired."

Chloe shrieked, thrusting her finger at my nose, "Nora, are you crazy?

"You eat our food! You live in our house! What's wrong with doing a little work around here? My brother makes millions a year supporting your useless ass, and you have the nerve to cop an attitude?

"Go find my blouse right now, or I swear I'll make him divorce you!"

"Your blouse?" I said and pretended to think about it. "Oh, you mean that white silk one? It looked kind of worn out yesterday, so I gave it to Prince for his bed."

"What?" Chloe roared, her eyes practically bulging out. "That was a limited edition! I paid seven thousand dollars for it! And you let the dog sleep on it?"

I shrugged, ignoring her livid face, and replied, "Prince didn't seem to mind. Not sure why you're complaining."

I brushed past them both without another word and headed downstairs.

Downstairs, Edward was lounging on the couch with his newspaper. In the kitchen, Emily stood at the stove wearing my apron, clumsily pushing eggs around a pan.

He didn't even glance up when he heard my footsteps. He just let out this smug huff.

"Oh, you finally decided to grace us with your presence? Emily noticed you were still sleeping, so she volunteered to cook. Take a look at her. Shame on you."

The old me would have sprinted into that kitchen, snatched the pan out of Emily's hand, and apologized profusely for being so lazy and thoughtless.

But the old me was dead. I walked over to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

"Is that so?" I said breezily. "Good for her. Since Ms. Lane loves cooking so much, she can handle all the meals from now on. She's living here rent-free anyway, and she might as well earn her keep."

A loud clang erupted from the kitchen.

Emily emerged holding a plate, a fresh red burn blooming across the back of her hand. Her eyes were already filling with tears as she looked up at Edward with the most pitifully rehearsed expression I had ever seen.

"Edward, I burned myself," she murmured, her voice catching perfectly. "But it's fine. Really. Nora works so hard every day. The least I can do is help out a little..."

Edward dropped his newspaper like it was on fire. He was at her side in a heartbeat, cradling her injured hand to blow on it gently. Then he spun toward me, fury blazing in his eyes.

"Nora! Do you even have a soul? Emily got hurt because of you! And instead of being grateful, you sit there running your mouth? Go get the first aid kit! Now!"

I reached across the table, picked up a piece of toast, and took a slow bite.

"The first aid kit's under the TV stand. Get it yourself," I muttered. "Did she break an arm? Lose a limb? It's a little burn. She'll survive without me playing nurse."

"You!"

Edward shot up from the couch, stormed over, and knocked the toast out of my hand. It hit the floor and rolled through a patch of dust.

He yelled, "What the hell has gotten into you, Nora? Is this about Emily moving in? I already told you! There is nothing going on between us. We are completely innocent. Honestly, your jealousy is disgusting."

I stared at the toast on the dirty floor for a long moment. Then I lifted my gaze to meet his.

I used to love those eyes. I used to search them for any sign that he saw me as something more than furniture.

The system had forced me to love him, and I had played the part for seven years.

By the end, even I couldn't tell the difference anymore.

All those nights I spent crying until my pillow was soaked felt so real. I kept asking the empty room if it was just the crushing mission breaking my spirit or if I had actually been stupid enough to catch real feelings for this man.

But right now, looking into those same eyes as he defended another woman and tore me apart, I felt nothing.