They Wanted Family Drama And I Wanted A Property Deed Chapter 03
Catherine hurried over, looking like she’d swallowed a lemon. “Lena, don’t make a big deal out of nothing. The room can be cleaned. Sophia’s already upset enough. Stop pushing her.”
I held her gaze.
“Mrs. Hart, I haven’t even said one word yet, and your whole family has already decided I’m guilty.”
Catherine froze.
I smiled. “Efficient, I’ll give you that. Not very smart, though.”
Bennett snapped, “Lena!”
I slowly tucked my phone back into my bag.
“You don’t have to shout. My hearing’s fine.”
“I’m just emotionally allergic to favoritism. Can’t stand the bias. Can’t stand the cluelessness.”
At dinner, the Harts laid out a whole spread.
Looked expensive. Also looked cold.
Sophia sat next to Catherine, all cozy, piling food onto her plate.
Bennett sat on the other side, handing Sophia napkins every few minutes. He didn’t look at me once.
I didn’t care. I picked up my fork and took a bite of fish.
The second it hit my mouth, I went quiet.
Richard noticed my expression. “Not to your liking?” he asked flatly.
Sophia said softly, “Lena’s probably more used to home cooking. This truffle pasta was made by our private chef. Maybe it’s too fancy.”
I put down my fork. “It’s not too fancy. It’s just bad.”
The table went dead silent.
Catherine frowned. “Lena, our chef has been cooking for this family for over ten years. No one has ever said his food is bad.”
“That just means you’ve got no taste,” I said, taking a sip of water. “The pasta’s overcooked. The sauce is too sweet. The acidity’s all wrong. It sits on the surface, like a failed family relationship—looks dramatic, tastes like nothing.”
Bennett let out a snort. “What do you know? You weren’t even raised here.”
I turned to him.
“I was raised in the Tri-State Area, not in a cave.”
“Is your understanding of the outside world really just two categories—the Harts and wilderness survival?”
Richard slammed his hand on the table. “Enough! It’s one meal. Do you have to start a fight?”
I set down my fork too, my voice calm. “Mr. Hart, you’re the ones who brought me here.”
“You bring me back, don’t give me a room, don’t give me any respect, and then expect me to praise food that tastes terrible?”
“Did you guys outsource your family reunion process to a Gaslighting 101 seminar? Because none of this is how decent people behave.”
Catherine’s face drained of color.
Sophia’s tears started falling again. “Lena, is it because you hate me? Is that why you hate the food here too?”
I turned to her.
“Stop making everything about yourself. The food’s bad because the chef messed up. You’re dramatic because that’s your thing. Two different issues.”
Sophia cried harder.
Bennett shot to his feet. “Lena, apologize to Sophia right now.”
I glanced at my phone to check the time.
“My bad. We only-child from wealthy suburban backgrounds have a strict schedule. I don’t handle low-quality emotional drama after nine p.m.”
“You—”
“And another thing,” I said, pointing at the table. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll arrange my own meals. I’ll pay for them myself. Don’t bother catering to me. And don’t test my upbringing with food like this.”
Richard’s face turned purple. “What, you think the Harts are broke?”
I smiled. “I hope you can. I’d hate for you to mooch off me.”
Just then, a maid came over with dessert. She set a bowl in front of Sophia and said softly, “Sophia, your favorite—bird’s nest soup.”
When she got to me, she put down a bowl of plain soup and gave me a slightly dismissive look. “Lena, this is also very nourishing.”
I looked at the bowl. “Why does she get bird’s nest and I get plain soup?”
The maid paused, then smiled. “Sophia has a weak constitution. Mrs. Hart specifically asked for it.”
Catherine looked uncomfortable. “Lena, if you want some, we’ll prepare it for you tomorrow.”
I nodded, then turned to the maid. “What’s your name?”
“Marge.”
“Marge, how many years have you worked for the Harts?”
“Twelve.”
“Good.” I pulled out my phone. “Send me a copy of your employment contract, your pay stubs, and all the purchase receipts.”
Marge’s face changed. “What are you trying to do?”
I gave her my sweetest smile. “Nothing. I just want to see if someone who doles out food based on who she likes more really deserves twelve years of salary.”
Richard frowned. “Lena, Marge has been with this family for a long time.”
“Then she should know how to act with dignity,” I said, looking at Marge. “Decent people keep their accounts clean. Don’t you think?”
