chapter 3

I had known for a long time that I was never going to be their first choice.

Even Ethan, the man who once promised to spend his life with me, would never truly stand by my side.

I should have been heartbroken. I should have cried, maybe even lost control.

But instead, I felt calm. So calm, it scared even me.

“I’m fine. I’m not even mad,” I said, wiping my hands on my apron and answering flatly.

They looked at me, a flicker of surprise in their eyes, as if they expected me to be angry. But if I had gotten angry, they would have just called me dramatic. It was ironic. No matter how I reacted, I was always in the wrong.

They probably knew how messed up this whole thing was, but they went ahead with it anyway.

They never once considered how I might feel, and now they were confused, just because I stayed calm.

The room fell into an awkward silence until Mr. Quinn finally broke it. “Lana, it’s best that you’re not angry. After all, we’re family.”

I nodded, took off the apron, and quietly sat down at the far end of the table.

The moment I sat down at the table, they acted like everything was fine, as if nothing had happened. They went right back to doting on Yvonne, showering her with warmth and attention.

I had no appetite. After a few bites, I put my utensil down.

Mrs. Quinn beamed at Yvonne, looking like she wanted to pile every delicious dish into her plate.

Yvonne chatted with them happily about her time studying abroad, academic achievements, highlights from her internship, and what she planned to do now that she was back.

She said she did not want to join the family business and had already received a job offer from one of the country’s TopTen Innovations.

This was because she wanted to make it on her own, to carve out a path for herself.

Everyone sang her praises. Everyone but me.

Seeing I had not said a word, Mrs. Quinn cleared her throat awkwardly. “Lana, why are you just eating pasta?”

Without waiting for a reply, she picked up a piece of braised pork and placed it into my plate.

“Yvonne just got back, so of course we’re giving her a little extra attention,” she said.

I stared at the greasy piece of meat. Just the sight of it turned my stomach. I was still recovering, after all.

“It’s okay. I’m full,” I said.

Mrs. Quinn’s expression darkened. She thought I was giving her attitude again. “What do you want from me?” she snapped.

Ethan was about to say something, but Yvonne suddenly clutched her stomach, eyes wide in panic. Her utensil clattered to the floor. “I... I don’t feel good,” she gasped. “I can’t breathe!”

Yvonne leaned weakly against Ethan, her breathing fast and shallow. Sweat broke out across her pale skin.

Ethan’s eyes widened as red rashes started to spread across her body.

“Yvonne, are you having an allergic reaction?” Ethan asked, his voice tinged with panic.

Mrs. Quinn’s gaze snapped to me. Without warning, she grabbed me and yanked me to my feet, then slapped me hard across the face.

A sharp, burning pain shot through my cheek.

“Lana! You made the food. Did you do this on purpose? What did you put in it to hurt Yvonne?”

Ethan scooped Yvonne into his arms and shot me a furious glare. “Lana, how could you be so cruel? If you’re upset, take it out on me, not her!”

Mrs. Quinn, trembling with rage, grabbed the bowl and poured half the soup all over me.

Mr. Quinn gave me a furious glare. “We need to get her to the hospital. Now.”

After some shouting and cursing, they hurried Yvonne out the door and took off for the hospital.

Seriously? Could they at least try to be reasonable?

How was I supposed to know what Yvonne was allergic to?

I wanted to tell them I did not do anything wrong, and I had no reason to.

But I knew they would not believe me. They would rather fall for Yvonne’s cheap performance.