Chapter 3

3

I didn't answer. I just turned my back on them and walked into my new room.

That evening, my biological father finally returned home.

The four of them sat at the dining table, looking like a perfect, happy family.

They had a matching set of crystal glasses and silver cutlery.

I was given a mismatched plate and sat at the very corner, like an unwanted guest.

Xenia was busy putting food onto everyone's plates, acting like the perfect daughter.

My father smiled at her, his eyes full of warmth.

"Xenia is so thoughtful. Dinner is always better with you here. It shows that raising a child right is what matters most."

Then he looked at me, his expression darkening as he let out a heavy sigh.

Landon scoffed.

"Yeah, if it weren't for Xenia, I wouldn't have an appetite. Unlike some people who sit there with a long face, acting like we owe them the world."

The insult was aimed straight at me.

In my last life, Xenia did the same thing―flaunting her intimacy with the family.

They were so afraid that my arrival would make Xenia feel neglected that they went overboard to love her more.

I remembered how much I had looked forward to this.

On the way to the mansion, I was so nervous, thinking I'd finally have parents and a brother who loved me.

Instead, I got cold shoulders and emotional abuse.

Landon used to compare us constantly, making it seem like Xenia was an angel and I was a piece of trash.

Back then, I walked on eggshells, smiling through the insults because I was terrified of being sent back to my foster parents.

I stood up suddenly. I grabbed a huge serving of greasy greens with my bare hand and dropped it onto Landon's plate.

"Here, have a big portion!" I said brightly.

Landon jumped back, his chair flying as he nearly fell.

"Willa! That's disgusting! You touched the food with your hands! How am I supposed to eat that?"

I calmly wiped my hand on a silk napkin.

"Oh? When Xenia serves you, she's 'thoughtful.' When I do it, I'm 'dirty'? You're being a bit biased, don't you think, Brother?"

Xenia's inner voice chimed in.

"Willa must have had such a hard life to be so aggressive. She probably stole because she was desperate. She's just acting out because she wants attention. I need to be extra kind to her. She's so pitiful."

My father's face turned grim.

"Where are your manners? I heard you stole your mother's purse. You need discipline, or you'll end up a criminal. The St. Claire name won't be dragged through the mud!"

If I couldn't hear Xenia's thoughts, I would have never understood why they hated me for no reason.

Her "kind" thoughts were actually poisonous accusations.

Everything she "thought" made me look like a monster.

I stood up and slammed my hand on the table, flipping the main platter over.

Food splattered everywhere, ruining their perfect dinner.

"Yeah, I have no manners because my foster parents treated me like a tool!" I shouted.

"They worked me to the bone. My brother was dying, and I needed money to save him, so I took the purse. Nobody else was going to help him!"

"In that house, he was the only one who cared about me. And why was I there? Because your precious foster daughter was living my life here!"

If they were going to make my life miserable, I was going to burn their peace to the ground.

Matching plates? Matching glasses?

If I didn't have a place here, none of them would enjoy their meal.