Chapter 2

After washing up, I picked out the most innocent-looking, least threatening pink loungewear and strolled leisurely into the dining room.

The Sinclair family's dining room was ridiculously large, with a long mahogany table that could easily seat twenty people.

At the head of the table sat a woman.

Charlotte Sinclair.

She wore a perfectly tailored silk evening gown and styled her hair into a flawless updo. She held a financial newspaper, her expression cool and detached.

Even at home, she exuded such an intimidating aura that you couldn't even look her in the eye.

Seated to her left was a young man.

Julian Sinclair.

He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves casually rolled up to show off his toned forearms. Gold-rimmed glasses rested on his nose, masking the sharp glint in his eyes.

He looked like the kind of guy who seemed polite and refined, but you could tell there was something dangerous beneath the surface... No, scratch that. He was all elegance, a true gentleman.

As for my dad, David Bennett, the infamous "Upper East Side's Top Trophy Husband", he came out of the kitchen wearing an apron, grinning obsequiously as he carried out a steaming bowl of truffle soup.

"Charlotte, I made this truffle soup for you. It's cooked to perfection; give it a taste," he said, trying his best to please her.

Honestly, aside from being good-looking, sweet-talking, a whiz in the kitchen, and an absolute master at emotional support, my dad was basically useless.

But honestly, that's all he needed to be.

For a powerhouse like Charlotte, what she really needed was someone who could dote on her and make her life as comfortable as possible; a living, breathing accessory.

"Morning, Dad," I said in my best good-girl voice.

I pulled out the chair across from Julian and sat down.

Charlotte glanced up from her newspaper, gave me a quick look, and responded with an indifferent "Mm."

Julian didn't even bother to look up, kept slicing his fried egg at an unhurried pace.

The atmosphere felt heavy.

If this were before, I'd be squirming in my seat, feeling like a total outsider, and resentment would be eating me alive.

But now, I felt completely at ease.

These two were my golden tickets!

Just then, Margaret, who had absolutely no sense of timing, tagged along inside as well.

As soon as she saw what was going on, her eyes darted around, and she sidled up to me, lowering her voice just enough for everyone at the table to hear. "Liv, look at Julian. He's eating imported steak, and your dad only gives you a bowl of plain oatmeal? That's favoritism for sure! A stepmom's still a stepmom..."

"Liv, look at Julian—he's eating imported steak, and your dad only gives you a bowl of plain oatmeal? That's favoritism for sure! A stepmom's still a stepmom..." she said.

The atmosphere turned icy in a heartbeat.

My dad's hand trembled, nearly spilling the soup all over Charlotte.

Julian's knife froze mid-slice, the metal scraping against the plate with a screech that made everyone wince.

Charlotte set down her newspaper, her eyes blazing as she locked onto Margaret.

I mentally gave Margaret's entire family tree a piece of my mind.

Does this old witch want me dead or something?

Back in my previous life, she kept stirring the pot every time we sat down to eat, driving me crazy until I flipped the table and made Charlotte and Julian completely fed up with me.

This time, I wasn't about to let her get away with it.

"Margaret," I said, genuinely surprised, "are your eyes getting old or something? This is premium white truffle oatmeal; it's worth thousands of dollars a bowl! Julian's eating a quick steak because he's rushing off to work. I'm eating this for my health. Do you even get it?"

Margaret froze. "Wait, this... this is white truffle?"

I ignored Margaret and turned to Julian, giving him a dazzling smile. "Julian, you work so hard. Why not have this truffle oatmeal instead? It's good for your brain, and honestly, you're the one holding up our family's economy."

Julian finally looked up, his deep eyes scrutinizing me through his glasses.

In the past, I used to avoid his gaze like a mouse dodging a cat, full of hostility and fear.

But today, I met his eyes without flinching, my look full of admiration for our family's golden goose.

"No need," Julian said, his voice calm and distant, but without any anger. "Have it yourself."

I immediately picked up the bowl and took a big spoonful, letting out a contented sigh. "This is amazing! Dad, you're such a great cook! Charlotte's the real winner here, getting to enjoy your cooking every day."

Flattery will get you everywhere.

My dad was so moved he looked like he might cry, and even Charlotte couldn't help but let a tiny smile slip.

Only Margaret stood there, looking like she'd swallowed a fly, her face turning all sorts of colors.