Upon hearing what I said, everyone looked a bit let down.
Leonard Warren waved his hand dismissively. "Since Gracelynn isn’t feeling her best, let’s wrap it up early and skip dinner."
Russell Simmons frowned and tugged me toward the kitchen. "You're not some delicate flower, so don’t act like one. Go cook dinner."
He shoved me into the kitchen and thoughtfully closed the door behind me.
Before long, laughter and cheerful chatter floated in from outside.
"Russell, you’ve got her well-trained."
"Absolutely," he bragged. "Her family practically begged my mom to let her marry me. She wouldn’t dare go against me."
Sunny Parker chimed in softly, "Talking like that isn’t nice. You sound like you're pushing her around. I think I’ll go lend Gracelynn a hand in the kitchen."
Russell quickly stopped her. "No need. You've got such gentle hands, not suited for kitchen work. What if you get hurt? You wouldn't be able to look after me."
"Oh, you’re impossible," she replied playfully.
I could hear Russell giving her a loud peck on the cheek.
"Sunny, remember? On my eighteenth birthday, you kept me company all night with those hands. No one else has been close like that."
The memory hit me like a punch, and I felt sick to my stomach.
That day, I spent all my savings on a present for him, and he kissed my forehead for the first time.
I never imagined that on the same night, he did something so vile with Sunny Parker.
Yet he always insisted they were just childhood friends, nothing more. Only someone naive like me would have been fooled.
Once dinner was ready—ravioli, pulled pork, and spiced honey cake—I tried to slip away to my room, but Sunny Parker grabbed my arm.
