“Dad, it’s okay. I know my sister didn’t mean to snatch the soup I made for you. She just wants your attention. Please don’t be mad at her.”
Dizzy and reeling, I tried to explain, but the words died on my lips when those familiar, cold eyes fell on me.
“You’re that low, huh? You have to steal everything from Sophia? Do you think I can’t feed you or clothe you?”
I looked up at the face so similar to mine, pale and weakly murmuring, “Dad, it wasn’t like that. The soup was from me. I only wanted to—”
Richard cut me off impatiently, turning to the guard. “Who brought the soup?”
The guard swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Sophia and me before lowering his head. “Miss Sophia told me to take it up. This young lady just tried to grab it.”
Richard sneered, disgust clear in his eyes. “Just like your mother—you make me sick.”
He gave me a once-over, his impatience deepening. “Always pretending. You love playing the pauper? Fine. Starting this month, not a single cent from me. Let’s see how long you can keep up the act.”
I lowered my head, my fingers icy cold.
He didn’t even know—I hadn’t received a penny of support from him in eight years.