Chapter 2

My nerves, which had been stretched tight all this time, finally eased up a bit.

Edward smiled, so at least I knew I wasn't getting sent back today.

I asked him cautiously, "Why did you bring me back? Has Ms. Grant cooled off?"

Edward shot me a cold look. "Don't go thinking Mabel is as nasty as you. She's always been fair and understanding, never even angry with you. If anyone's out to punish you, it's me."

I hurried to say, "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant."

Edward cut me off. "Quit your babbling."

I shivered and shut my mouth tight.

"Let's go. Everyone's waiting for you at dinner," he said.

At the dining table, Mabel was dressed in the latest couture gown, her long hair perfectly curled, her skin flawless, and her eyes bright and clear. She looked every bit the pampered princess.

I lowered my head, clutching the frayed cuff of my sleeve, feeling utterly out of place.

I knew what I looked like—skinny, pale, like a withered branch.

As soon as Mabel saw me, she rushed over, her voice sweet and affectionate. "Charlotte, my dear sister, you're back."

I instinctively pulled back, terrified I'd ruin her spotless white dress.

"Ms. Grant, you're too gracious. I... I'm not your sister anymore," I stammered.

I shot a nervous glance at the stern middle-aged man at the head of the table. After Mabel's suicide attempt, he'd said, "I don't have a scheming daughter like you, Charlotte."

As Richard wished, I truly didn't dare see myself as the Grant family's eldest daughter anymore. But Richard's expression only grew darker. "Sit down and have dinner."

I didn't dare defy him. I sat down in the seat reserved for the help and waited on them during dinner.

"Charlotte, could you pour me some soup?" Mabel said, her smile tinged with smug superiority.

"Yes, Ms. Grant," I replied.

I carefully picked up the soup bowl and offered it to Mabel with respect.

The next moment, the hot soup was flung straight into my face, scalding my skin.

The expensive, delicate bowl hit the floor and shattered into bits.

Before I could even process what happened, Edward came rushing over, his face dark with fury.

Instinctively, I dropped to the ground.

"I didn't mean to! Please, don't hit me. I'll kneel on the shards, I swear..." I begged, my voice shaking with fear.

I scrambled to gather the shattered porcelain, piling the sharp pieces beneath my knees. Blood ran freely from my cut palms, but I didn't dare stop.

"Charlotte, stop!" Edward's voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

Edward's hand clamped down on my wrist, halting me.

I lifted my head in confusion, meeting Edward's tightly knit brows and intense gaze.

"What are you doing? Doesn't it hurt?" he demanded.

I shook my head.

Compared to the pain of kidney cancer, this was nothing.

Richard slammed his fork down. "Just when we were having a nice family dinner, you had to turn it into a bloody mess. Makes me sick."

With that, he stormed out of the room.

Edward stared at me for a moment, and then said decisively, "I'm taking you to the hospital."

But I really didn't feel any pain at all.

I withdrew my hand and stood with my head lowered, showing respect.

I knew my place. I wasn't worthy to even touch Edward.

"Mr. Hawkins, I really don't feel any pain," I said.

Mabel squeezed in beside Edward, her voice all soft and whiny. "Edward, it hurts. I got burned."

Mabel, the real culprit, just gave me a smug little smirk.

"Oops, my hand slipped. Sorry," she said.

She tossed out an apology, but she didn't mean a single word of it.

I kept my head down. "It was my fault for not being careful. Ms. Grant isn't to blame."

"Then hurry up and clean this mess. I'm throwing a party at home tonight," Mabel said.

She leaned in close to my ear.

"It's a welcome party just for you," she whispered.

Her lips moved, her words hissing out like a snake's venom.

"Welcome home, my dear sister," she said, her voice sweet but laced with malice.

I shrank into the corner of my bedroom, anxious and uneasy, just waiting for night to come.

I had no clue what kind of hell Mabel was going to put me through.

She was full of tricks. Two years ago, she showed up at our door with a keepsake, claiming to be my little sister who'd gone missing when we were kids.

My parents were absolutely thrilled. They gave her anything she wanted.

I was happy, too. I took her along to every elite party, made sure she had the best seat at every fashion show, and introduced her to everyone, saying, "This is my sister, Mabel."

Later, my parents didn't just give her the lion's share of the family fortune. They even wanted to hand over 70% of the company shares to her.

My mom tried to talk me into it. "Mabel's been through so much all these years. We need to make it up to her."

For the first time, I spoke up against it. It wasn't about the shares, but because Mabel had no clue how to run a company.

Mabel pretended to be all understanding, but then she just packed her bags and left a note: [I'm leaving. I didn't come back to fight over the family assets with my sister. Mom, Dad, don't miss me.]

After we tracked her down and brought her back, Richard tore into me. "How can you be so selfish and clueless? What's wrong with giving your sister a bigger share?

"All you care about is money, you ungrateful brat! All that kindness you showed her was just for show. We've really spoiled you rotten!"

I tried to explain myself, but nobody cared to listen. Running a company was serious business, and I stood my ground. After fighting tooth and nail, Richard finally relented and handed Mabel 50% of the shares.

I still remembered the way Richard looked at me—cold, with nothing but disdain in his eyes.

"Charlotte, I'm utterly disappointed in you," he said, his voice like ice.