After settling the school issue, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell seemed to forget I existed. They were constantly out with Lily, either on shopping sprees or at lavish banquets where Lily would be showered with praise, which seemed to fill Mrs. Blackwell with a joy akin to eating a mythical magic peach.
In contrast, Ryan, their own son, worked like a draft horse every day and rarely received a kind word from his mother. If the son they had raised for
over twenty years got this treatment, a daughter who had just reappeared had no chance.
But I’was perfectly happy with that.
After several days of relentless whining from Leo, I finally sent him an invite code. It was for a small game I had developed myself, which Principal Albright had later helped promote until it became popular in certain circles. Anyone who wanted to play not only had to pass a diagnostic test but also needed an invitation from a current player. Leo had been drooling over this game for ages and had finally passed the test.
Sigh. If the noob wanted to get crushed, who was I to deny him?
That evening, Mrs. Blackwell was taking Lily to another party. As she was leaving, Lily saw me sprawled on the sofa. A glint appeared in her eye. She tugged on her mother’s arm and pleaded softly, “Mom, can we take sister with us? She just stays home all day. It’s not healthy.”
Mrs. Blackwell glanced at me, her brow knitting into a tight knot when she saw me engrossed in my phone, not even looking up. “Tonight is the Crofts‘ party. Everyone who is anyone will be there. Look at her, glued to that phone. What kind of impression will she make? She’ll just embarrass
the family.”
Mrs. Blackwell clearly found me unpresentable and had no desire to take me out. To her, children–whether biological or adopted–were like fine clothes or expensive jewelry: accessories to be worn for her own pleasure and to garner praise from others. They had to be comfortable and flatt-
ering to be considered acceptable. Otherwise, they were defective.
Of her four children, it was obvious that only Lily met her standards.
But under Lily’s persistent pleading, Mrs. Blackwell finally, reluctantly, agreed to take me along.
At the Croft estate, she kept me by her side at first. When people asked who I was, she would explain, and I would become the subject of several
speculative, assessing stares. Unlike Lily, I wasn’t a sweet–talker. I just offered a polite “hello” and not a single word more.
Mrs. Blackwell’s expression grew darker and darker until she finally abandoned me. After a few curt instructions, she walked off with Lily.
Lily glanced back at me over her shoulder, a look of blatant triumph in her eyes.
Tsk. How boring.
I grabbed a plate of food, found a quiet corner, and took out my phone again.
But my peace was short–lived.
“Hey. You’re the real Blackwell heiress they brought back, right? You’re not all that. Nothing compared to Lily.”
