Chapter 3

The next day, a crowd had gathered around my mother's little noodle diner.

By the time I got there, Candice was holding up her phone, livestreaming.

She wore a plain white dress, standing in the doorway, her voice as gentle as someone trying to smooth over a fight.

"Everyone, please don't yell at her."

"She's a single mom, that's all. It's only natural she's scared her daughter won't marry well."

"But with a family like Samuel's, the wedding really can't be too shabby."

The camera swung toward my mother.

She stood behind the stove, flour still on her hands.

She didn't know what a livestream was. She only knew a lot of people were pointing their phones at her and smiling.

Blanche sat at the diner's one round table, wiping the chair down with a tissue in disgust.

"Let me say this now, since we're going to be family."

"On the wedding day, don't come up on the stage."

"The second you open your mouth with that accent, people will think the Stephens family couldn't afford decent in-laws."

A relative beside her chimed in. "And don't sit at the head table either. A widow at the head table is bad luck."

My mother went frighteningly pale.

She said quietly, "I don't have to sit at the head table."

"I won't say a word. As long as Zoey's all right, I'll sit anywhere."

The more she gave way, the more they fed on it.

Candice pushed the phone closer.

"Auntie, you really are pitiful."

"But for Samuel and his bride's good fortune, it's only right that you put up with a little."

I rushed over and snatched the phone out of her hand.

The screen was flooded with comments.

"The widow mom sure knows how to milk the sob story."

"No wonder the daughter's got hard luck written all over her."

"The Stephens family got tangled up with people like this. Rotten luck."

I killed the livestream and threw the phone back into her arms.

"Get out."

Candice took half a step back, and tears fell at once.

"I only wanted to explain things for Auntie."

"Explain until the whole internet is cursing her?"

Blanche gave a cold laugh.

"Cursing her wrong, are they?"

"If your mother really had any pride, she wouldn't have her eye on the Stephens family's bride price."

My mother shook her head quickly.

"I never asked for a bride price."

Blanche slapped a red envelope down on the table.

"Ask for it now, same difference."

"Two hundred thousand."

"Take it, and on the wedding day don't sit at any table, don't say a word, and don't let anyone know you're Zoey Fox's mother."

My mother looked like she'd been struck across the face.

Her lips trembled a long time before she managed, "My daughter isn't sold to your family."

Samuel's voice came suddenly from the doorway.

"Mom."

The first thing he saw when he walked in was Candice with her red eyes, and the first thing he asked was, "Who upset you?"

My mother's hands were still shaking.

I laughed coldly.

"You came just in time. Take your mother and your girl-buddy out of here."

Only then did Samuel glance around at the wreckage of the diner.

"Mom, why don't you head home first."

Blanche laughed in fury.

"I clean up your mess for you, and this is the thanks I get?"

Samuel frowned, but he didn't argue with the word "mess."

He came over to me and held out a paper bag.

Inside was the chestnut cake I liked.

"You didn't eat last night. Have a little something first."

I looked at that paper bag.

He was always like this.

Letting other people trample me on one hand, and remembering exactly what I liked to eat on the other.

Candice said softly, "Samuel, don't only think about your bride. Auntie came all this way early this morning, and it was for your wedding too."

Samuel rubbed the space between his brows.

"Zoey, I know my mother's words were harsh."

"But the wedding isn't just about you."

"If there's no room at the head table, seating your mother close by amounts to the same thing."

I looked at him.

"There's room for your uncle's poker buddies, but no room for my mother?"

His face couldn't hold it.

"Do you have to embarrass me in front of everyone?"

"Who embarrassed my mother first?"

Samuel lowered his voice.

"Don't force me to lose face out here."

I asked quietly, "Samuel, have I ever forced you into anything?"

He stopped short.

In seven years I had never once made him choose, so every time he simply assumed I'd be the one to back down.

My mother took off her apron.

"Zoey, let's close up."

She lifted her head and looked at Samuel.

"Mr. Stephens, my daughter can feel pain too."

My eyes went red in an instant.

But Samuel just froze, as if it were the first time he'd realized my mother could say the word no.

I picked the red envelope up off the table, chased after him, and threw it back into his arms.

"Take it back."

"My mother isn't a prop your family buys to look respectable."

He gripped the envelope, his face grim.

"Zoey, are you really going to push this all the way?"

I steadied my mother.

"I'm not the one pushing it all the way."

"It's your family's door that my mother couldn't get through even on her knees."

"So I won't be going through it."