Chapter 2

Chloe glanced down at her glittering, fresh manicure. "Brooke, do you want to get your nails done too?"

She sneered at my calloused hands. "Never mind. Some people just aren't born to live the high life, right?"

I stared into her eyes without saying a single word.

Unnerved by my cold gaze, she muttered, "Creep," before climbing into the family town car and driving away.

Lucas pulled up in his convertible. Seeing me still standing in place, he hesitated, then actually stepped out and opened the passenger door for me.

I climbed in and raised my right hand. "I still have one working arm."

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Who cares? I just didn't want you scratching my paint."

The downtown luxury mall was massive. I had never seen such a towering shopping center in my life, so I paused at the entrance to look around.

Lucas nudged my shoulder impatiently. "Stop staring. Let's go."

Partway through our shopping, Lucas muttered an excuse and walked off, leaving me alone in a boutique.

I picked out a few inexpensive shirts for myself, then stopped by another store to buy several comfortable plus-sized outfits for Aunt Martha and my old neighbors.

After thinking it over, I used the remaining cash to buy a small gift for each member of the Holloway family.

I waited by the mall entrance until two in the afternoon, but Lucas never returned.

I walked into a convenience store, bought a three-dollar sandwich to stave off my hunger, and continued waiting until five in the evening.

Finally, my phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number.

I answered. It was Mrs. Holloway. "Brooke, Chloe injured her leg and we are all at the hospital. Just take a cab back by yourself."

"Okay," I said, hanging up.

I didn't have enough balance on my phone to cover a cab ride all the way to the suburban estate.

I paid the driver what I had, got out on the side of the road, and walked the rest of the way.

By the time I reached the estate, I was parched and exhausted.

The entire family was gathered in the living room, including Mr. Holloway, who was usually buried in corporate work.

Seeing me walk in, Chloe offered a weak, apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry, Brooke. It's my fault Lucas couldn't pick you up. I told Mom and Dad not to come, but they insisted. Luckily it's just a sprain."

I glanced down at her ankle, which was wrapped in a single, decorative layer of gauze.

She popped a grape into her mouth. "You must be tired after walking around all day. Sit down and have some fruit."

The housekeeper took the shopping bags from my hands and gasped in surprise. "Did you buy gifts for the master and madam? Oh, and for the young masters and Miss Chloe too!"

Everyone at the table looked stunned. Mrs. Holloway walked over and began unpacking the items one by one.

Chloe's face darkened for a split second before she forced a laugh. "I guess there isn't one for me. That's okay, it makes sense that Brooke dislikes me."

Mrs. Holloway pulled out the last box. There were five gifts in total, exactly one for each person.

Chloe's fake smile completely froze.

Mrs. Holloway looked down at the pile on the table: a few cheap basic shirts, large-sized clothes that clearly weren't mine, and gifts for everyone else.

Realization dawned on her. "Brooke... how did you get home?"

As if answering her question, the maid pointed at the floor in shock. "Miss Brooke! Your feet are bleeding!"

I looked down. The friction from walking miles had worn the skin off my heels, soaking my white canvas sneakers in crimson blood.

Lucas leaped up to grab the first-aid kit. Logan rushed over, gently guiding me to the sofa and trying to slide off my shoe.

However, the fabric of my sock had dried and fused directly to the raw, open flesh.

Without flinching, I grabbed the collar of the sock and ripped it straight off my skin.

Logan gasped, while Mrs. Holloway covered her mouth in sheer horror.

Blood dripped steadily onto the polished marble floor, forming a small red puddle.

Chloe's expression turned utterly pale.

The housekeeper rushed over with a clean towel. Lucas returned with an antiseptic bottle, trembling as he tried to dab it on my heel.

I snatched the bottle from his hand, poured the stinging liquid straight over the raw wound, and crudely wrapped a bandage around my foot.

Because my left hand was weak, the bandage ended up messy and crooked.