The Stolen Life

When my collar was furiously yanked, I met Jeffrey's eyes and nodded solemnly. "I understand."

I had no intention of competing with Rhianne in the first place. And even if I wanted to, could I possibly win?

I was but an imposter. Who would stand by me?

"Alright, you both are being too harsh. How could you be so authoritarian with El? I'm not made of paper—I'll be fine," Rhianne chipped in.

The situation was about to settle down when she stepped in again, affectionately wrapping her arms around me. "El, let's go have fun together. Just ignore these annoying men!"

She was acting rather spoiled. Jeffrey ruffled her hair dotingly. Even Ivor, who was usually expressionless, had a warm smile.

They were the epitome of a happily ever after.

"It's okay. It's only what I deserve."

I subtly distanced myself from Rhianne, but she didn't seem to catch on. Every time I pulled away, she pulled me back.

"Eleanor."

All of a sudden, Jeffrey growled at me. Perhaps my actions were upsetting his precious darling.

He shot me a glare before unceremoniously dragging me into the study. Knowingly, Ivor followed close behind.

They dismissed Rhianne. It was evident that they were going to warn me to behave.

This time, I didn't cause a scene like I did during the engagement fiasco. Even my aching, bitter heart had grown numb.

"Mr. Shaw, Mr. Rhett, please rest assured. I only returned to retrieve my belongings. I won't compete with Rhianne for anything."

I made a point to use my most courteous tone, but Jeffrey still scanned me with distrust. "Your room has the best lighting in the house, so I let Rhianne move in. Your belongings have been relocated to a guest room."

His words were a direct order. I responded with a muted "Okay".

"And my home as well," Ivor added coldly. "I hope you know your place. Since you're back, go make some soup. Rhianne likes what you cook. She treated you well all those years—you're not going to refuse, are you?"

Making soup was the only skill I had mastered over the past 20-odd years, all thanks to the two men standing before me.

Now, they wanted me to make it for someone else. Had this happened in the past, I would have put up a fight.

But now, I merely nodded calmly.

"I'm on it."

I wasn't sure how I made it to the kitchen, but the act of staying busy helped me forget many things. Things like unhappiness and exhaustion.

Having received wind, Rhianne showed up in the kitchen shortly after. "El, thank you for cooking for me."

"It's nothing." I didn't look up at her but rather remained focused on my work.

"What are you making? Can I help?"

Like a curious child, Rhianne wandered around, her movements full of naïve energy. She tried to touch the pot lid, which was unquestionably scalding hot. I panicked and tried to stop her.

But she was faster. She burned herself and instinctively flung the lid aside, spilling hot soup onto me.

The lid, as if it had a will of its own, landed directly on my leg.

A loud crash echoed as I collided with the ground, unable to utter a sound from the pain.

"What happened?"

Jeffrey was the first to rush in, visibly anxious. In his haste, he stepped on my hand while dashing straight to Rhianne's side.

"Eleanor, I warned you already. What kind of tantrum are you throwing now? Don't forget your place," he berated through gritted teeth.

Before I could pull back my red and swollen hand, Ivor trod right over the same spot.

"Eleanor, is this the upbringing you received?"

Three pairs of eyes bore into me as I blew gently on my throbbing hand and staggered to my feet.

"Jeff, Ives, this has nothing to do with El. I wanted to help, but I didn't realize the lid would be so hot. Don't blame her. She didn't do it on purpose."

They always said that children from poor families had no choice but to grow up quickly. Whenever they scolded me, they would talk about how Rhianne endured countless hardships in my place.

But now that something actually happened, they seemed to have forgotten something. Surely, someone who had supposedly suffered so much would know better than to touch a scalding lid!