Chapter 2
I drove straight to Sutton Manor, my knife kit stashed in the back seat.
Alice greeted me at the door like I was her last hope. "Lottie, I'm starving to death."
I grabbed my knife case. "Give me ten minutes."
When I walked into the kitchen, a bunch of Michelin-starred chefs were crowded around a sad-looking plate of chicken pot pie, sighing like they'd just failed a final exam.
"Ms. Brooks," the head chef said, almost bowing as he handed me the apron, "we followed your recipe, but it just doesn't taste right."
I tied on the apron, picked up the knife, and got started. "You forgot one crucial ingredient."
"What ingredient?" one of them blinked, totally lost.
"Poverty," I shot back.
I handled the ingredients like a pro. "By the time I was seven, I was running the whole household. If I couldn't cook, my adoptive parents would've tossed me out without a second thought."
Alice's eyes welled up as she put her hand on my back.
I slid the chicken into the pot, and the kitchen instantly exploded with the mouthwatering scent.
Alice took a long, satisfied breath. "That's the flavor. Rich but untamed, refined yet fierce."
As I plated up the dish, my phone started buzzing nonstop.
Anna: [Lottie, when are you gonna make that meatloaf for me? Name your price!]
Noel Kensington: [Charlotte, it's the third day without you. I really miss your spaghetti with meatballs.]
I smiled as I replied to each message, my fingers gliding across the screen. Before I knew it, I accidentally tapped into my social media feed.
The first post was from Emily.
She'd posted a grid of nine photos with a simple caption: [The happiest family ever! Love you all!]
I tapped in to check it out.
The first pic had my mom and my dad on either side, sandwiching her in a hug. My mom was playfully messing with her hair while my dad fastened a diamond bracelet around her wrist.
The second pic showed David standing behind her, pulling a goofy face at Emily. They looked like they were totally in sync.
The third was a close-up of the dining table, with a gorgeous two-tiered cake right in the center—chocolate and mango, Emily's favorite.
And there were countless gifts.
That was when it hit me that today was Emily's birthday.
It was also my birthday.
That thought dropped into my mind like a stone into a pond—barely a ripple, gone before I even noticed.
It was normal that I forgot it. My adoptive parents never bothered with my birthday.
After my adoptive mom swapped me for Emily, she didn't even want to take me home. But she was scared that leaving me out there would blow her cover, and the Brooks would catch on, so she took me back home.
So really, how could she ever be kind to me?
She'd yell and hit me for no reason, dump every single chore on me, like even breathing in her house was a waste of space.
Growing up in a place like that, I had no time thinking of my birthday.
For me, celebrating a birthday was a luxury as distant as the stars themselves.
Turned out, while I was busy pretending my birthday didn't exist, Emily's was a whole different story.
A cake made just for her, a diamond bracelet, her brother making a special trip home, and parents who spoiled her rotten.
She had everything I wouldn't even dare to imagine.
I didn't care. I was about to put my phone away.
Emily only posted that to try and rub it in.
But I never wished for any of that, so it doesn't faze me at all.
Just then, another message popped up.
It was from someone I didn't recognize, with the nickname Rainy.
Rainy: [Happy birthday, Charlotte.]
Suddenly, my nose stung, and my eyes burned with tears I couldn't hold back.
"Lottie, why are your eyes so red?" Alice asked, looking at me with concern.
I quickly pulled myself together. "Just the chili got to me."
I replied "Thanks" and got back to cooking.
It was probably just a client who happened to remember my birthday.
Not that I ever told anyone when my birthday was, though.