"Miss, you've been wronged."
"When the time is right, I'll speak to Mr. Cox. There has to be a way."
I looked into the butler's pained eyes and shook my head.
Nora Whitney had watched me grow up. Of course she knew who I really was.
"Nora, it's fine. This place isn't so bad."
I started tidying the room. Five minutes later, I was done.
Vivian had some illness—diagnosed from god knows where—that meant she couldn't sleep alone. She'd specifically requested me as her bedmate.
To keep me from disturbing her precious rest, Mom and Dad made me sleep on the floor.
The thin bedsheet Vivian "accidentally" spilled water on more nights than not. I'd end up lying on cold, bare hardwood.
Compared to that, this was a luxury hotel.
In the middle of the night, half-asleep, I heard the door creak open.
Mom and Dad.
Mom's voice was low, almost guilty: "Isn't this a bit much? Making Alex live in this dump—how's she supposed to handle it?"
Dad's tone was ice: "Consider it training. As a young lady of the Cox family, she should be able to endure this much."
"Don't worry. She's adapting fine. Besides, it's only temporary. I'll make it up to her later."
I smiled in the dark. Bitter.
Temporary. Make it up to me.
What made them think that after all this, I'd crawl back to the Cox family, grateful and devoted?
Not that I wanted the title of "Cox family's young lady" anyway.
After a hazy day of rest, Nora woke me before dawn.
She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable: "Miss... Miss Vivian is requesting you prepare her breakfast. Eighteen dishes. Not one less."
Eighteen dishes would take at least two hours. I'd definitely be late for class.
Knowing my homeroom teacher, I'd be standing in the hallway all day.
But I didn't hesitate. I dressed quickly and went.
From the first day I moved in, I knew Vivian would find every possible way to torment me.
This was all within expectations.
"Alex, I feel so bad asking you." Vivian's voice dripped with false sweetness. "But what can I do? You're a servant now, and Mom specifically assigned you to take care of me. You know how it is—eighteen dishes is the bare minimum for my breakfast."
I curled my lips.
Before Vivian was brought back to the Cox family, her family hadn't even been middle class.
Eighteen dishes is the minimum.
She probably hadn't even had proper breakfasts back then.
That's what I thought. But my face stayed blank as I set down the last plate.
"It's done, Miss."
I grabbed my bag to leave.
Behind me, Vivian suddenly collapsed, writhing on the floor.
"It hurts—I'm so itchy! Mom, Dad, help me!"
They rushed out of their room.
"Vivian! What's wrong?"
Through her pained grimace, Vivian pointed at me.
"Mom, Dad, don't blame Alex. She didn't mean to... give me something I'm allergic to."
Dad stormed toward me. His hand came down hard across my face.
The slap sent me crashing to the floor, ears ringing.
"Alex Cox! How could you be so vicious—trying to hurt your own sister!"
I clutched my cheek, stunned. "I didn't—"
Mom's gaze cut through me like ice: "What else would we expect from a servant's child? No manners. A twisted heart. I'm warning you—if anything happens to Vivian, you won't get off easy."
They swept Vivian up and rushed her to the hospital.
I thought it was over.
But before I could catch my breath, Mom's car screeched back into the driveway. She stormed inside, grabbed me without a word, and dragged me toward the car.
