02
[Who’s this Zooey anyway?]
[She’s the Spencer Group’s heiress, way out of our league. No surprise you don’t know her. But what’s with this new “sister“?]
I glanced at my phone and tucked it away, letting the online world buzz with theories.
The closer they got to the truth, the better for me.
I dragged Jessica to a secluded corner and sat down. She looked at me, puzzled.
*Are you just going to sit here fuming? You’re the star tonight. Hiding doesn’t suit you. Go out there and show her who’s boss. You’re the Spencer family’s true daughter. What’s there to fear?”
Font
Tiffany had vanished for the moment, so I nudged a dessert toward Jessica.
“Save my strength. The real drama is about to start.”
True to form, Tiffany soon reappeared, with her white dress marred by a glaring red wine stain. Tears streamed down her face.
I tilted my head, pinning Jessica with a knowing look. “Check it out,” I whispered. “It’s showtime:
Tiffany approached and sobbed. “Sis, why did you ruin my dress with wine?”
12:06 PM
Jessica’s patience snapped, her hand slapping the table as she moved to defend me.
“You b*tch…”
I restrained her with a gentle hand, signaling her to keep her cool.
A stained dress was trivial. Usually, she just needed to pop into something new.
But today wasn’t just any day; it was the day my father was set to embrace Tiffany into our family publicly. Yet, the moment he voiced her new status, drama struck with her dress.
What should have been an easy fix now felt like a great challenge.
With the room brimming with elders, any misstep in handling this wardrobe malfunction could stamp me with the indelible mark of a “spoiled brat“. Such a label would be a dagger to the heart of my ambitions for inheritance.
People always root for the underdog, and Tiffany played the part to perfection.
“Sis, did I do something wrong? Is that why you…?” she trailed off.
In her unfinished statements, she shaded me as the archetype of a pampered and headstrong heiress.
I stood up from my seat, and my frame stretched to a commanding 5.5 feet, further enhanced by the heels I wore, towering over Tiffany, who seemed
even more petite now.
My gaze descended upon her.
“Don’t call me sister. My father acknowledges you as his foster daughter, but it doesn’t mean we’re family.”
A flash of shock passed through Tiffany’s eyes, but she quickly masked it.
Just then, an individual emerged from the throng of onlookers, stepping forward to stand protectively in front of Tiffany.
“Zooey, are you really going to shame your father like this?”
He was my fiancé.
His gallant defense of Tiffany prompted an involuntary roll of my eyes.
“As the Spencer family’s daughter, can’t you even show a little grace to a foster sister? You’ve publicly humiliated her by dousing her dress with wine. Are you that jealous of her?”
A dress could be cleaned, but a reputation marred was another story,
Stephan indirectly cast me as envious and petty.
With a feigned look of distress, Tiffany tugged at Stephan’s arm.
“Stephan, Ms. Spencer didn’t mean to.”
My face turned to stone. Their public display of affection was bold, leaving me to speculate with unease about the extent of their closeness behind
closed doors.
After a pause, I asked coolly, “Got proof?”
Tiffany stumbled over her words, “I… I thought…”
Stephan, quick to her defense, snapped, “You’re exploiting Tiffany’s good nature with this.”
I shot back, “Exploiting what? You claim I ruined her dress. Did anyone actually see that?”
The crowd was silent, no one willing to be caught in the crossfire of this squabble.
