Chapter 2

"What did you just say?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Cousin? Timothy Jones is your cousin?"

I never imagined I would sleep with someone four years younger than me, let alone my ex-boyfriend's cousin. It finally clicked why Timothy had given that look last night.

My best friend, Candice Fields, asked in disbelief, "Are you telling me you slept with Timothy's cousin? Isn't he supposedly studying abroad?"

I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. "I had no idea Ian was his cousin. He was helping with the drinks, and I thought he was a waiter. I even tried to pay him…"

Candice's eyes widened. "What kind of waiter wears Ocean Blue? That jacket cost 120,000 dollars!"

My phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with messages—some from Timothy, some from Ian. I was overwhelmed, and my head was spinning.

"What if I just run away now?" I asked desperately.

"The Bakers only have one son, right? And I've heard they're super strict. Olivia, how do you think they'd react if they found out a 'bad girl' like you slept with their precious boy?"

I shuddered at the thought, fear creeping in. However, something did not add up. Ian had not seemed like someone raised in a strict household last night. I wondered if it was the years of repression that had led to his aggressive behavior in bed.

I glanced at my phone's glowing screen and saw a message.

[Livie, are you really just going to pretend nothing happened between us? If you keep ignoring me, I'll tell Tim.]

I felt like I was losing my mind. If I had known Ian's connection to Timothy, I would never have gotten into bed with him.

Candice grinned and handed me her phone. "You and Tim sure are something. He's after your stepsister, and you're with his cousin."

It was Timothy's latest social media post—two hands intertwined, the silver ring I had given him replaced by matching couple bands. The caption read, [Lucky to have found you.]

Willow would probably be my lifelong rival. My parents' marriage had been purely for business. Two years in, Mom discovered Dad was having an affair with Willow's mother. Not only that, but they also happened to have a daughter one year younger than me.

Mom had a fierce, competitive streak. Determined to win back Dad and show up Willow's mother, she pushed me relentlessly to get top grades and excel in every extracurricular activity imaginable.

Stories like these were common in upper-class circles, but unlike others, Mom took her life. She could not bear knowing the man she shared a bed with was also sharing one with someone else, so she jumped off a building.

I was only eight years old at the time, naive as any kid my age would be. I did not cry at her funeral. Instead, I was actually relieved I would not have to go to any more after-school classes.

However, all those people who gossiped about us behind closed doors suddenly started crying and hugging me.

"Poor Olivia," they said. "Your mom loved you so much."

Loved me? If she loved me, why did she leave me? Why did she abandon me, leaving me all on my own?

I did not shed a single tear, and they called me heartless for it. That was when Timothy appeared in my life.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, he stood in front of me and mocked them, "What a bunch of phonies. You'd think it was their mom who died."

Rude, arrogant, shameless—those were the words people used to describe Timothy. If my life was like a machine repeating the same routine, then Timothy was the unnoticed screw that could come loose whenever it wanted.

He extended his hand to me with a grin. "You've got guts. I like that."

My heart skipped a beat, and his seemingly simple action reignited my will to live.

Later that night, Dad summoned me home for a family dinner. The moment I walked in, an ashtray flew past my head.

"You're getting out of control! How dare you slap Willow in public!"

I was not quick enough to dodge, and a cut opened on my cheek, filling my nose with the metallic scent of blood.

I touched my stinging face and forced a smile. "So, does that mean it's fine to hit her at home?"

"You ungrateful brat, is this how your mom raised you?"

"Dad, have you forgotten? Mom has been dead for years."

I took a seat at the far end of the table, my face expressionless. Dad was trembling with rage, while Willow hurriedly patted his back.

"Dad, don't be angry. I'm sure she didn't mean it…"

"I don't care if she meant it or not! As long as I'm the head of this family, she won't get away with this behavior! Apologize to Willow, now!"

The table was covered with dishes, half of them seafood—Willow's favorite. However, I was allergic to seafood.

"Why should I apologize? She's the one who seduced Tim. Besides, you know the Jones family only acknowledges me as the legitimate daughter of the Lambert family, right?"

The color drained from Dad's face. Even if Timothy liked Willow, she was still the daughter of a mistress. In the upper-class society, reputation was everything. The Jones family would never allow their son to marry someone with such a scandalous background. So, despite not having a place in this family, I was still the only heiress of the Lambert family.

Just then, a knock at the door interrupted the tense silence. The housekeeper opened it to reveal Timothy, looking casual and effortlessly handsome.

Willow's eyes lit up. "Tim!" she exclaimed, practically throwing herself at him. She even had the nerve to shoot me a triumphant look.

I was about to leave when Timothy grabbed my arm. "Actually, I'm here to see you."