3
The cheerful atmosphere in the classroom was shattered that afternoon.
My fiancé, Ethan Sterling, the second son of the Sterling family, finally made his appearance. He strode dire- ctly to my desk.
Everyone assumed he was here for me and moved aside.
Instead, he grabbed Willow’s arm, his voice frantic. “Willow, I’m so sorry I’m late! You must have been so sca- red! Who bullied you? I’ll make them pay!”
I raised an eyebrow. This was an interesting development. Last time, my classmates‘ outrage had drowned everything out, and I’d missed Ethan’s reaction. So, even with a clear mind, he still fell for her act.
Willow burst into soft, delicate sobs and pointed a trembling finger at me.
Ethan’s glare was immediate and furious. “Lillian! What the hell is your problem? Why are you picking on a poor, defenseless girl?”
I shrugged. “None of your damn business. Go cry to my father if you have a problem.”
He was speechless. He turned back to comfort Willow, whispering sweet nothings.
I rolled my eyes.
Ethan had never been happy with our arranged engagement, a relic of our parents‘ friendship and our shared childhood. He’d always said I was too strong, too independent, not “feminine” enough. Not like Willow, who clung to him and made him feel needed.
Last time, I actually wondered if he was right. This time, I just wanted to slap him.
Screw you. Only weak men are intimidated by strong women.
For the rest of the afternoon, Willow sat with Ethan, the two of them whispering and giggling. He was comp-
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letely smitten, a dopey grin plastered on his face. I found myself seriously questioning my past self’s taste in
men.
When school let out, I found Willow waiting with me at the gate. My brother, Liam, pulled up in his luxury car.
I moved to open the passenger door, but Liam’s voice stopped me cold.
That’s not your seat. Get out.”
I stared at him, utterly bewildered. If it wasn’t for me, who was it for?
Willow smiled and glided past me, her eyes meeting my brother’s in the car with a look of pure adoration.”
Liam, thank you for saving me a seat.”
Liam grinned like an idiot. “Of course. You’ve had it so tough. Get in, get comfortable.”
She slid into the seat, then shot me a triumphant smirk over her shoulder.
I just smiled back sweetly and opened the rear door.
During the drive, Liam lectured me. “Willow is Auntie Liz’s niece. You remember Liz, our nanny.”
“Liz passed away last year. She raised Willow, who’s had a very hard life. We need to take care of her.”
I let out a silent, bitter laugh. A hard life? The Vances paid our nanny a six–figure salary with a massive bonus every year. When she died, we covered all her funeral expenses and gave her family a multi–million dollar bereavement gift. We had been more than generous,
His sob story about Willow’s “hard life” was a load of crap.
Willow chattered nonstop, praising Liam’s driving, gushing about how grateful she was for his kindness, and completely ignoring the actual daughter of the Vance family sitting in the back.
When we arrived, she practically shoved me aside to walk in beside him. Our butler, Mr. Henderson, was waiting at the door as always to take my schoolbag.
Instead, Willow tossed her bag at him without a second glance and looped her arm through my brother’s.
Mr. Henderson looked up, seeing only her retreating back,
I stood beside him, rolling my eyes. “Claims to be a poor girl, but she orders people around like she was born to it,” I said under my breath. “Mr. Henderson, don’t indulge her. Throw her things out.”
“Your salary is paid by the Vances. You serve the Vance family, Stop enabling a freeloader.
Mr. Henderson bowed his head respectfully. “Yes, Miss Lillian.” He then took Willow’s bag with his white- gloved hands and unceremoniously dropped it outside the front door.
Willow’s hearing was apparently excellent. She heard me from down the hall and turned to Liam with a wou nded expression.
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Liam patted her shoulder comfortingly, then rounded on me. “Lillian, did you hear a word I said? I told you to
take care of Willow!”
I cocked my head, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Brother, if you feel sorry for Liz, then you can give her family all the money they could ever need. You could hire the best tutors for Willow so she can learn a marketable skill. What you don’t do is bring her into our home under some vague, undefined pretense, letting her live out some fantasy of becoming a wealthy socialite.”
“You’re telling me to take care of her? I am the daughter of this house. I will not be waiting on a servant’s child. So what does that make her? The young master’s mistress?”
Willow’s face went pale. “Lillian, you can insult my grades and my family, but you cannot insult my virtue!”
she declared, puffing out her chest.
I was speechless. And my brother, the idiot, looked at her as if she were Joan of Arc.
Before they went upstairs, Willow whined that she was frail and that my room, which was perfectly climate-
controlled, would be better for her health. Liam, without a moment’s hesitation, ordered me to give my room.
to Willow and move into the basement as punishment for my “disrespect.”
