Chapter 3

In the living room of the Harrington family estate, Margaret and Edward Harrington sat alongside my stepbrother, Matthew.

Their expressions shifted to visible surprise when they saw Richard Harrington enter alone with me, with no sign of Karen Blackwell following behind.

"Richard, what's going on? Where is Karen?" Margaret was the first to speak, her voice laced with confusion.

Richard gave a simplified account of the events at the community center. He omitted the specific details of Karen's physical outburst, merely suggesting that I was having trouble adjusting and had suffered a small emotional lapse.

Even with his toned-down explanation, the atmosphere among the family members grew subtle and strained.

"This must be Emily," Margaret said, walking toward me. She reached out and gently stroked my hair with a grandmotherly warmth. "Don't be afraid, dear. This will be your home from now on."

Edward nodded firmly from his chair. "A young girl shouldn't be staying in a foster facility. It's nonsense to even suggest it."

Only Matthew remained detached. He leaned back against the plush sofa, lazily lifting his eyelids to scrutinize me. His gaze held a mixture of deep curiosity and blatant disdain.

I knew exactly what he saw. In his eyes, I was just like his social-climbing stepmother—another outsider scheming for a way into their prestigious family.

I made no effort to please him. Instead, I stood quietly by Richard's side, playing the part of a startled little rabbit.

Eventually, Karen made her late arrival.

She had clearly taken the time to compose herself on the drive over. A practiced, graceful smile sat on her face, and she carried a cake box in her hands.

"Edward, Margaret, Matthew, nice to meet you," she greeted them with forced intimacy. She walked over and draped an arm around my shoulder in a display of motherly affection. "Emily, look what Mom bought for you. It's your favorite strawberry mousse."

She was desperate to project the image of a devoted mother and daughter.

Without saying a word, I shrank back behind Richard's tall frame, pointedly avoiding her touch.

The subtle flinch caused Karen's smile to freeze on her face. It also caused the rest of the Harrington family to look on with renewed suspicion.

The silence in the room became heavy and awkward.

Margaret was the one to break the tension. "Alright now, the child just arrived, let's not overwhelm her. Mrs. Jenkins, please take Emily upstairs to see her room. It's been ready for some time."

Mrs. Jenkins, the housekeeper, smiled and led me to the second floor.

The room was decorated as a pink princess suite, several times larger than the cramped apartment I had lived in previously.

"Do you like it, Emily? Sir Harrington and Madam Harrington picked everything out themselves," Mrs. Jenkins said.

I gave a small nod and whispered, "Yes. Thank you."

I had lived in this very room in my past life. Back then, Karen would constantly remark that girls shouldn't be spoiled. One by one, she had systematically removed every beautiful decoration until the room was stripped down to nothing but a bare bed and a desk.

As I stood there lost in thought, Margaret walked in, holding a brand-new dress.

"Here, Emily. Why don't you try this on? I bought it specifically for you."

It was a beautiful gown made of lace and pearls, looking like something plucked straight from a fairy tale.

In my previous life, I was overjoyed to wear it, only to be screamed at by Karen. She had told me I looked like a monkey wearing human clothes because it didn't fit. The very next day, she shredded the dress with scissors and tossed it in the trash, telling my grandparents that I had ruined it myself out of carelessness.

Recalling this, I instinctively took a step back and shook my head.

"Grandma... I can't wear that."

"Why not? Don't you like it?" Margaret asked, her voice filled with surprise.

I twisted my fingers together, looking at the floor with a timid expression. "Mom said... new clothes get dirty easily. She said if I ruin them, it costs too much money to pay back. She said my old clothes are good enough."

Margaret's face darkened instantly.

Karen's expression, meanwhile, was beginning to contort with suppressed rage. She hurried into the room, forcing a laugh. "The child is talking nonsense again. I just wanted her to develop thrifty habits..."

Suddenly, a cold sneer cut through her explanation.

Matthew was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked at Karen with a chilling, detached gaze.

"Thrifty habits?" he asked sarcastically. "That dress you're wearing right now—I saw it in a magazine last month. It's custom couture. What was the price tag? Six figures?"

The room fell into a deathly silence. With one sentence, Matthew had rendered Karen's defense completely hollow.

Karen clearly hadn't expected the carefully maintained facade of her reputation to crack so quickly.

More importantly, she hadn't expected that the first person to rip away her mask would be the one person she thought she could handle—my stepbrother, Matthew Harrington.