"Every single day, holed up in that room. Can't even come down for a meal without someone fetching her!"
"Nora, you go get her."
Jennifer didn't bother hiding her irritation. She'd figured it out long ago—no matter what happened, Mom and Dad's hearts would always tip in her favor.
The privilege of being loved was knowing you could get away with anything.
Nora went upstairs and knocked on the door.
"Miss Minnie, are you up?"
No answer. Nora assumed I was still asleep and hurried back down.
"Sir, ma'am, Miss Minnie doesn't seem to be up yet."
Mom's face darkened with anger.
"She thinks hiding in her room means she won't have to go through with the marriage? How naive. Forget her. Let's eat."
"Here, Jennifer, have some more."
Mom's expression shifted instantly, her voice dripping with honey.
"Don't you go copying her. If you starved yourself, it would break my heart."
Dad piled food onto Jennifer's plate too, heaping it with meat until the bowl could barely hold any more.
In the two years I'd lived here, the number of times they'd served me food at the table didn't even fill one hand.
How was this fair? I was the one with the illness. Jennifer was perfectly healthy and had parents who adored her on top of it. What had I done wrong to deserve this?
Grief and fury surged through me. I wanted to knock Jennifer's bowl off the table, but my hand passed straight through it.
Watching the happy smile on Jennifer's face, my entire soul trembled.
Then the doorbell rang.
In the middle of lunch—who could that be?
Nora went to answer.
Several bodyguards flanked a man in a wheelchair, pushing him forward.
When Mom and Dad saw who it was, they both shot to their feet.
So this was the man I was supposed to marry. Aside from his legs, it was hard to find a single flaw. Tall, with sharply defined features—he could have passed for a movie star.
"Mr. Sanchez! You should've called ahead so I could've picked you up. What brings you all this way?"
"Have you eaten lunch yet?"
Dad waved for Nora to go prepare more dishes in the kitchen.
But Ronnie Sanchez stopped her. "No need. I'm here on business."
Jennifer's gaze hadn't left him once, a flicker of worry threading through her delight.
"Mr. Sanchez, right this way."
They moved to the living room. Dad busied himself making tea.
Ronnie got straight to the point.
"The marriage arrangement—has Miss Henson made her decision? If she's agreeable, we can register the marriage next Tuesday."
"Marrying you would be her good fortune. We'll follow whatever arrangements work for your side."
Dad didn't hesitate for a second. When profit was on the line, family meant nothing—let alone a daughter he'd abandoned as a baby.
Mom spoke up, curious.
"Mr. Sanchez, why the sudden rush to register?"
I could feel it. Her question had nothing to do with concern for me.
Dad shot Mom a sharp look.
"What kind of question is that? Mr. Sanchez has his reasons."
Mom let out an awkward laugh.
"I was just asking. I didn't mean anything by it."
Ronnie took a sip of tea and explained.
"My grandfather would like to see Miss Henson and me married soon."
There was something about him—a deep, tightly suppressed sadness. I tried to read his eyes for answers, but his expression gave nothing away.
"Is Miss Henson home? I'd like to meet her."
Before anyone could respond, Jennifer cut in.
"She's still sleeping."
All eyes drifted toward the second floor, toward my bedroom door.
Mom tugged at Jennifer's sleeve.
"Go wake her up."
Jennifer sighed and started up the stairs, muttering under her breath as she went.
"With that face of hers, fresh out of bed? Let's hope she doesn't scare Mr. Sanchez half to death."
