After getting ready for the day, I descended the grand staircase, my simple crop top and shorts a sharp contrast to the ornate surroundings of the Blackwood estate.
The floor gleamed under the early sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the grandeur did little to lighten my mood.
"Beautiful morning," I mused to myself.
I took a deep breath, willing my spine to remain straight and my composure intact as I entered the dining room.
The table was already set, laden with silver platters and an assortment of breakfast options that looked more suited for a royal banquet than a family of four.
Despite the tension knotting my stomach, the effects of my morning bath still lingered, leaving me a bit more at ease.
I forced a small smile as I approached the table. "Good morning, Dad. Good morning," I greeted softly but steadily.
The silence that followed wasn't unexpected. My father, Godfrey Blackwood, didn't even glance at me, his attention fixed on his newspaper.
My stepmother, Mariela, idly stirred her tea, her expression unreadable as always.
"I see you joined the table quite early today," Mariela finally said, her tone smooth but laced with mockery. "You must be hungry."
My stomach twisted, but I sighed inwardly, knowing the script by heart.
If I arrived late, I'd be branded disrespectful and arrogant. If I was early, it was apparently a sign of desperation.
You can't win with them, can you? I thought bitterly, biting back a retort.
Unfortunately, Mariela wasn't wrong. I was hungry. I hadn't eaten since the cold fries I'd scavenged for lunch the day before.
I opened my mouth to reply but was saved by Selena's dramatic entrance.
"Hey, Mom, I'm starving! I couldn't even sleep," Selena's voice rang out as she breezed into the room, her honey-blonde curls bouncing with each step.
Mariela's face immediately softened into a loving smile. "Come, my sweet," she cooed. Then her voice snapped like a whip. "Bring the food!"
The butler and maids appeared instantly, moving with practiced precision to set the table.
Platters of scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and warm pastries were laid out, along with a steaming pot of coffee.
As we began to eat, the silence was broken only by Selena's occasional remarks, each one dripping with entitlement.
"God, this toast is too hard," Selena whined, inspecting it like it was an offense to her existence.
"You shouldn't complain to me, darling," Mariela said sweetly, though her indulgent smile undermined the reprimand.
Selena smirked and turned her attention to our father. She leaned slightly toward him, her voice softening. "Dad, are you sure you don't want me to go over to the office with you and have a few drinks with Mr. Antione? I could help."
"No, thank you. I'd always call you if I needed you," Godfrey said.
I kept my head down, chewing methodically.
I knew what Selena was doing—trying to highlight her closeness to our father while simultaneously reminding me of my position as an afterthought.
Let her have it, I thought, focusing on my food. It's not like he cares about me anyway.
But then something unexpected happened. Godfrey cleared his throat, the sound sharp and commanding.
The room fell silent as he folded his newspaper and addressed us.
"Tonight," he began, his deep voice echoing in the spacious dining room, "I'll be flying out for a business proposal. In my absence, I want Selena and Hermia to represent me at a function."
The clink of Mariela's teaspoon hitting her saucer was loud in the stillness that followed.
"What?" Mariela said sharply, her usual composure cracking. "Why can't you attend yourself?"
Godfrey didn't flinch at her tone. "I won't be here. That is why," he replied.
Mariela pressed her lips together. "Your assistant or someone else could go, no?"
Godfrey sighed. "This is non-negotiable. Both of them will go."
I blinked, my mind racing.
Both of us?
Was I hearing correctly?
My father had never included me in anything—not a conversation, not a decision, and certainly not a family responsibility.
Selena's expression darkened. "Dad, I don't think I want to be seen with Hermia again. She's always so—"
"You don't need to think or want," Godfrey interrupted, his voice cold and final. "This isn't up for discussion."
"But, darling—" Mariela started, her voice a mix of coaxing and irritation.
"Enough, Mariela," Godfrey said firmly. "The matter is settled."
I glanced up, stunned.
Was this real?
Was I finally being acknowledged, even in a small way?
A tentative smile began to form on my lips, a tiny spark of hope igniting in my chest.
Selena, however, wasn't as gracious. She glared at me as if this was somehow my fault.
"This is ridiculous," Selena muttered under her breath, stabbing at her eggs with unnecessary force.
"Watch your tone," Godfrey said, his gaze sharp enough to cut steel.
Mariela, ever the actress, smoothed her expression into a placid smile, though her eyes glinted with displeasure. "Of course, dear. If that's what you want."
I barely heard the rest of the conversation. My thoughts were swirling.
He wants me to go. He wants me to represent him. The idea was foreign and exhilarating.
My heart swelled with cautious optimism as I resolved to do my best tonight.
Godfrey finished his meal in silence, dabbing his lips with a linen napkin before standing. His tall frame exuded authority as he adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit.
Without a word, he turned and strode out of the dining room.
Mariela rose immediately, her chair scraping softly against the polished marble floor. She cast a quick glance at me and Selena, her expression unreadable, before following her husband.
The sound of her heels echoed as she disappeared into the hall.
The tension left behind was suffocating.
Selena leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table in a way that would have earned her a scolding if her mother had still been present.
Her narrowed eyes fixed on me like a hawk sizing up its prey.
"You're not going tonight," Selena said bluntly, her voice laced with disdain.