Chapter 2

My father found me in a quiet corner with his assistant. Without a word of explanation, he slapped me across the face.

His face was pale, his voice dripping with impatience.

"Why are you throwing a tantrum here? Is a stupid title really that important to you? Do you have to make us a laughingstock in front of our guests?"

"Rain, I honestly wish you had died out there."

I stumbled and fell against a passing waitress. The wine glasses on her tray shattered onto the floor along with me.

My father’s face stiffened. He coldly ordered the waitress to help me up, then turned around to call the family doctor.

Listening to his anxious voice, I felt dazed for a moment.

[Look, your dad's eyes are red! He must feel so guilty. He wishes the doctor could fly here right now to treat your wound. And this dress—your mom picked it out specifically for you!]

[They were angry at you for being disappointing, but seeing you hurt, they couldn't help but feel heartbroken. What a great pair of parents!]

My father turned around to say something, but his assistant, Mark, stopped him.

"Sir, Mrs. Andrews and Evie are waiting for you to cut the cake."

The tension on his face instantly melted into a warm smile. When he looked back at me, his eyes had returned to their usual coldness.

"Forget it. If you don't want to go in, then don't."

"You look like a mess anyway. Going in would only embarrass us. Go back to your room."

Before leaving, he thought of something and pointed toward the back of the house.

"If you're hungry, go make something in the servants' kitchen. Don't show your face in the front yard."

I lowered my head, whispered an agreement, and walked toward the small kitchen.

This was the kitchen reserved for the house staff.

Because of the massive party these past few days, the servants had been eating in the main hall. No fresh groceries had been bought for this kitchen.

Inside the fridge, there was only stale, molded food. It looked utterly revolting.

My stomach burned with hunger. I reached out to grab the only decent-looking dish left, but a few flies landed on it. The sight made me sick to my stomach.

"Forget it. I'm not eating."

I clutched my stomach and turned around, only to run right into my glittering, diamond-adorned mother.

She furrowed her eyebrows, looking at me with disgust.

"Was the food in the banquet hall not enough for you? Are you a starving ghost? Or are you trying to make our guests think Arthur and I are abusing you?"

She glanced at my hand clutching my stomach.

"What? Did you overeat? How did I end up with a daughter like you?"

[Her mom was worried and came looking for her, only to see her daughter scavenging for food in the servants' kitchen!]

[No wonder she’s disliked. On such an important day, she has no sense of propriety. Can't she just bear a little hunger?]

I ignored the floating comments. I stiffened my posture and walked past her toward my room.

Behind me, my mother muttered a few more curses before hurrying away in her high heels.

When I reached my room, the sound of fireworks boomed outside.

I looked up through the window. The brilliant lights in the night sky formed words: "Happy Birthday, Evie."

Evie. That was supposed to be my name. And today was my birthday, too.

My stomach pain grew sharper. The cut from the shattered wine glass was oozing blood.

I sat on the cold floor, pulled out my battered old phone, curled my legs tightly, and played a birthday song.

Happy birthday to me.