Though the servant’s words sounded kind, they deliberately withheld gloves, forcing me to carry the bowl barehanded.
To avoid worrying Grandpa, I gritted my teeth, picked up the scalding bowl of chicken soup, and walked to Yvette’s side. However, she acted as if I didn’t exist, engrossed in a conversation with Monica, my supposed to be mother-in-law, about her experiences abroad.
The porcelain bowl conducted heat mercilessly, and the burning sensation spread across my palms, leaving them a deep red print. I was desperate to set the bowl down, but Jameson’s cold voice stopped me.
“Lauren, you upset Yvette with your words. If you’re going to apologize, at least show the proper attitude. Keep holding the bowl.”
His words pierced my heart like a dagger. Furious and humiliated, I slammed the bowl onto the table.
At that moment, Yvette suddenly stood up and “accidentally” bumped into my wrist. The bowl tilted, spilling the scalding, oily soup all over me. A burning pain spread across my skin, and I gasped in agony.
Before I could recover, Yvette cried out dramatically. “Ah! It hurts! Lauren, even if you’re unhappy with me, you shouldn’t pour hot soup on me! Are you trying to ruin my face?”
Jameson stormed over and shoved me hard. “Lauren! How could you stoop so low!?”
Shards of the broken bowl pierced my palm, sending a sharp, searing pain shooting through my hand and into my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes and finally spilled over as I stared at Jameson, my heart breaking all over again.
But he didn’t spare me a glance, his entire focus on checking Yvette’s neck with concern.
“Are you okay, Yvette?” he asked gently.
Yvette shook her head pitifully, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at me. “I’m fine. But Lauren seems upset. Did I do something wrong? I shouldn’t have complained about the pain. I’m sorry, Lauren.”
Jameson finally turned his gaze to me, filled with irritation and disgust. “Lauren, if you can’t behave during the New Year, get out. Stop ruining everyone’s mood.”
Yvette chimed in with feigned kindness. “James, Lauren accidentally spilled soup on herself. Her clothes are dirty, and sending her out like this would embarrass the Hall family. Why not let her change before leaving?”
Her tone was filled with concern, but the subtle superiority in her words made it clear she saw herself as the true mistress of the Hall family.
Moments later, perceptive servants led me to a room.
The instant we entered, they began pulling at my clothes. I resisted, but my struggles only left my garments disheveled, exposing large swathes of skin.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed.
I turned instinctively toward the source of the change, only to be blinded by a flash.
Click!
It was Yvette with a camera, a triumphant smile on her lips.
“Well, well, long time no see, my little stand-in,” she taunted, her tone dripping with malice.
A chill ran down my spine, my body stiffening as if stabbed by needles. My face turned ghostly pale.
The scene before me transported me back to those dark days when I was mercilessly bullied.
It was shortly after my mother had died in a car accident while saving Grandpa Carlos. Out of gratitude, Grandpa took me in and arranged for me to attend the same school as Jameson.
At first, Jameson often looked after me, walking me to and from class. Rumors began to spread, with people teasing that he liked me.
Naively, I allowed myself to develop feelings for him. But the moment he heard the rumors, he wasted no time clearing his name. In front of everyone, he not only denied any connection to me but introduced his girlfriend—Yvette.
The tide turned quickly. Admiring gazes shifted to scornful ones, and the rumors about Jameson liking me were replaced by ridicule that I was nothing but Yvette’s stand-in.
Just when I began to believe it myself, Yvette sought me out.
