Jameson’s mother immediately pulled Yvette into her arms, comforting her tenderly. “Don’t listen to that little brat’s nonsense. Her mother only sacrificed herself to extort Dad. Out of pity, he raised the girl and let her call us ‘Mom and Dad.’”
Jameson frowned at me with open displeasure. “Lauren, stop pretending now that Grandpa isn’t here. You’re just a maid’s daughter; calling them Mom and Dad is out of line.”
I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Furious and heartbroken, I wrenched my hand out of his grasp.
“You’re right. There’s no need to pretend anymore, so I won’t,” I said, turning to leave.
But Jameson’s father’s voice stopped me.
“Where do you think you’re going? Our family has raised you for years, and now you forget your place?”
My steps faltered as my back began to ache. Memories of being beaten with willow branches until my skin bled for disobedience came rushing back.
I shook uncontrollably, unable to move.
In the past, Jameson would have defended me against his father and taken me to Grandpa Carlos for refuge. But now, he simply returned to his seat, comforting the still-sobbing Yvette.
“Lauren, if you realize your mistake, you should make up for it. Go fetch the chicken soup from the kitchen and serve it to Yvette,” he commanded coldly.
I hesitated, my legs too weak to take a single step.
In the end, a servant pushed me toward the kitchen. I was handed the steaming pot of chicken soup, the heat scalding my hands.
“Miss Cameron, you’d better behave. Otherwise, you’ll get punished again, and this time it’s New Year’s. If Old Master Hall hears about it, his health might deteriorate even further,” the servant warned.
Though the servant’s words sounded kind, they deliberately withheld gloves, forcing me to carry the bowl barehanded.
To avoid worrying Grandpa, I gritted my teeth, picked up the scalding bowl of chicken soup, and walked to Yvette’s side. However, she acted as if I didn’t exist, engrossed in a conversation with Monica, my supposed to be mother-in-law, about her experiences abroad.
The porcelain bowl conducted heat mercilessly, and the burning sensation spread across my palms, leaving them a deep red print. I was desperate to set the bowl down, but Jameson’s cold voice stopped me.
“Lauren, you upset Yvette with your words. If you’re going to apologize, at least show the proper attitude. Keep holding the bowl.”