Chapter 2

The clicking of the high heels stopped abruptly.

Antoinette Webb stood at the top of the stairs. She gripped the fabric of her silk robe, her knuckles white. Her face was twisted in absolute fury.

A second later, Alton Fitzpatrick stepped out of his home office. He was adjusting his expensive silk tie. His eyebrows were pulled together in a deep scowl as he looked down at the chaos in the living room.

Antoinette did not even glance at Cordelia. She rushed down the stairs, her robe flying behind her. She threw herself onto the floor and pulled the sobbing Hallie into her chest.

"Oh, my sweet girl," Antoinette cooed. She pulled a lace handkerchief from her pocket and frantically dabbed at Hallie's dry cheeks.

Alton walked down the stairs. His leather shoes crunched over the shattered ceramic pieces. The sound was like bones grinding together. He looked down at the mess, his upper lip curling in disgust.

Finally, Alton's eyes landed on Cordelia.

He took in her dirty T-shirt, her messy hair, and the dust on her shoes. His stomach physically recoiled. The disgust in his eyes was raw and unfiltered. He did not ask if she was hurt. He did not look at the blood dripping from her sleeve.

Alton turned his glare on Leland. "I pay you to manage my affairs, Leland. Not to drag trash into my main house."

Leland bowed his head, his shoulders shrinking. "Sir, I apologize. But Miss Hallie threw the-"

"Shut up!" Antoinette shrieked from the floor. She glared at Cordelia. "You just walked through the door and you are already bullying your sister! You have absolutely no manners!"

Hallie buried her face in Antoinette's neck. Over her mother's shoulder, Hallie shot Cordelia a vicious, triumphant smile.

Cordelia stood perfectly still. Her breathing was slow and even. She did not rush forward to explain. She did not drop to her knees and beg for forgiveness like she had in her past life.

She slowly raised her uninjured left hand. She casually wiped the blood off her right hand before it could drip onto the expensive rug. The gesture was careless, almost bored.

Alton saw the movement. His blood pressure spiked. The veins in his neck bulged against his collar. To him, her silence was an act of extreme defiance.

Alton marched across the room. He stopped inches from Cordelia, towering over her. He pointed a thick finger right between her eyes.

"Listen to me," Alton hissed, his breath hot against her face. "This is the Fitzpatrick estate. I will not tolerate your trailer park rules in my home."

Cordelia slowly tilted her head up. Her blue eyes-the exact same shade as Alton's-locked onto his. There was no fear in her gaze. Only a freezing, bottomless void.

She opened her mouth. Her voice was high and childish, but her articulation was razor-sharp.

"Are the rules of the trailer park to throw heavy cups at people's heads?" Cordelia asked.

The logic was flawless. The question sliced straight through Hallie's lie.

The living room plunged into a suffocating silence.

Alton's jaw dropped. For a split second, he was stunned by the girl's razor-sharp articulation. Then, the humiliation of being outsmarted by a seven-year-old child turned his face a dark, angry red. His chest tightened.

Antoinette's voice shattered the silence. "How dare you talk back to your father! Apologize to Hallie right now!"

Cordelia let out a short, breathy laugh. It was a cold sound. She looked at the two adults standing in front of her. She looked at them the way a person looks at a corpse.

In her chest, a heavy chain snapped. She mentally deleted them. The biological connection was dead.

Hallie realized her parents were losing control. She kicked her legs against the rug and screamed louder. "Make her leave! Send her back to the orphanage! I hate her!"

Antoinette's eyes watered. She looked up at Alton, her hands clutching Hallie. "Alton, please. Get this jinx out of here."

Alton yanked at his tie, loosening it. He opened his mouth to order Leland to drag the girl out.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A heavy, rhythmic pounding echoed from the dark hallway leading to the east wing. The sound hit the floorboards like a hammer.

The air in the room instantly froze.

Glenwood Fitzpatrick stepped out of the shadows. The patriarch of the family leaned heavily on a black ebony cane. His face was a map of deep wrinkles, set in a permanent scowl.

Alton and Antoinette instantly dropped their shoulders. They lowered their heads.

"Father," Alton said, his voice suddenly weak.

Hallie stopped screaming. She sucked in a breath and shrank behind Antoinette's back, her fingers trembling.

Glenwood ignored them. His sharp, predatory eyes swept over the broken cup, the spilled coffee, and finally landed on the tiny, skinny girl standing in the middle of the room.

Cordelia did not look away. She held the old man's gaze.

She placed her left foot slightly behind her right. She pinched the sides of her oversized, dirty T-shirt. She bent her knees and lowered her body into a flawless, textbook-perfect curtsy.