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“Thedeal is that you stay for as long as your mother wants you here.”Zanewas dressed to the nines in a sharp, black tux.Everythingabout him was welcoming except for his eyes.Cold, dark eyes told me that he didn’t give a shit how hard this day was for me to endure. “You’renot ruiningPiya’sday by leaving before the reception is over.”
Ruinher day?Iwanted to scream she ruined my life by marrying the worst person in the world.Forthe last couple of weeks,Zanehad systematically blackmailed me into bending to his will while simultaneously reassuringMomno one would find out he was my biological father.Mylife had gone from a loving family to a shitty stepfather and an oblivious mother parading around her happiness.Inever considered myself sensitive, but was it presumptuous to expect my neurotypical mother to be?
Apparentlyso.
AtleastMomhad the good sense to try and keep things on the down low.Zane, on the other hand, invited the entire world to their wedding.Heinsisted she had a big dress, a wedding party, a giant cake, and a zillion people to witness the spectacle.Hehad exercised zero shame in flaunting this inappropriate celebration with a widow supposedly still in mourning.
BeforeMomcould ask me ifIwas okay with this circus,Zane, the snake, got to me.Heshowed me aDNAtest proving his parentage.IfIheld back my blessing, he’d post it on social media to out me.Sincethen, he’d held that card over my head and been strategic about his manipulations.Ithought about outing him toMom, but a part of me wondered if it was best that she moved on instead of drowning with me.Whilemisery loved company,Ihad never been much for company.
Nonetheless, being forced to celebrate their happiness still sucked. “Ihave a bunch of projects due onMonday.”
“Itcan wait until tomorrow,” he said curtly, voice dripping with distaste.Itwas a window into my new life.Therewas no doubt in my mindZaneregretted the dayIwas conceived.Hewas the opposite ofPapa.Papalooked at me as if his world revolved around my happiness.Zanelooked at me likeIwas the pest he was forced to deal with but would much rather squash.
“Unfortunately, it can’t,”Ireplied coolly and tapped theUberapp on my phone.
“Okay.Thenwe should take a father-daughter selfie before you leave,” he spoke in a syrupy voice, though the words were sardonic.
BeforeIcould protest,Zanetook out his phone and snapped a selfie of us.Acold smirk pulled on his lips, boiling my blood. “Adorable.Let’spost this one on theGram.Howabout ‘father-daughter finally reunited’ for the caption?”Hethrummed two fingers over his lips as if in deep contemplation.
Asshole.
Zaneowned me, and he knew it, too.Obediently,Iplaced my phone on the table and took my previous seat.
Ihad finally found the thingIhated more than death—love.
ChapterTwenty
POPPY
Bythe timewe gathered for “family brunch,”Iwas seething.I'dburn down this house ifIdidn’t get my picture back.Tappingmy foot under the table,Ikept my glare steadfast onZane.
“Poppy, do you want a croissant?”Momheld out the breadbasket, cutting into my limitless rage with another blindingly colorful pink sundress. “Imade your favorite.Burnt.”
Isilently shook my head.
“Areyou sure, baby?Look,Itoasted them the way you like it.Thebread’s completely dry and impossible to tear.”
Theylooked lovely, but my appetite was scarce.Theeggs and baked beans on my plate hadn’t been touched, either.Iwas biding my time.Momusually forgot something in the kitchen and excused herself midway through breakfast, giving me a small window to confront an unaccompaniedZane.
Theone thingZaneandIhad in common was protectingMom’sfeelings.Inever told her of the horrible things he did because it would shatter her picture-perfect world.Makingmy mother miserable wasn’t my priority.Thesame philosophy didn’t apply toZane.
Zanecoughed, suspiciously eyeing his breakfast before his lids slanted to me.
“Youokay?”Momset the breadbasket down to pat his back.WhenZaneindicated he was fine, she returned her attention to me. “Poppy, how’s your winter project going?”
Ispent my winter break working remotely as a hedge fund analyst, coining new ideas with a substantial short-term payoff.Iinvested macro amounts in thousands of risky companies, assessing when the rates would mature.Oncethe semester started,I’dresume my position in person, but with an impressive portfolio.Upongraduation, it’d jumpstart my career as a senior analyst atAmbaniCorp.
However,Iundertook another project this winter.Anexperiment.IfImust live with the enemy, it was mandatory to learn their weakness.Througha process of elimination,Ifigured outZanewas allergic to the herbanise.Aspredicted, he hadn’t consumed the rare spice before and wasn’t aware of the allergy.Onthe days he pissed me off beyond measure,Iadded a small dose to his meals.Notenough to be fatal, but enough to cause moderate discomfort.
Idirected a smirk atZane. “Thewinter project’s going better thanIexpected.”
Openingmy notebook,IrecordedZane’sreaction to today's amount.Aquarter gram of anise triggered a red hue to the skin, flared nose, and coughing.Ihad to keep thorough notes soIdidn’t accidentally kill him.Momwould frown upon that.Notto mention, ifZanehad a near-death experience, he’d find a way to somehow make it my fault.
“Youdon’t like your oatmeal?”Iasked innocently whenZanepushed away his bowl, unceremoniously avoiding his breakfast.
“Youbarely touched it.”Momlooked hurt. “Ithought it was your favorite.”Shemade fresh chia jam forZane’soatmeal topping every day.Ihated ruining her hard work.Iwouldn’t have to resort to such measures ifZanehadn’t touched my things in the first place.
Hereached over to holdMom’shand. “Itis,Princess,” he spoke to her warmly before his distrustful eyes found mine.Iraised my eyebrows in challenge. “I’mjust having an off day.”Hemade excuses to placate her. “Couldn’teven get out of bed this morning.”
