An Accidental Heir For The Ceo

LIORA 

The scent of roasted chicken and garlic filled the house like a cruel joke even when my step mom knows I am allergic to garlic, she still wouldn’t stop cooking with garlic.

I stood by the dining room entrance, my arms folded tightly across my chest, my stomach aching from hunger. The golden-brown meat glistened under the light as my stepmother, Veronica, dished generous portions onto three plates—none of which were mine.

Kiara, my step sister, sat at the table, she looked radiant in her designer top, her freshly manicured nails clicking against her phone screen. She didn’t even look up when I entered. 

Veronica finally spoke without glancing at me. “You can stand there. I’ll tell you when you can move.”

My mouth tightened, but I said nothing. Speaking only made things worse. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, the faint creak of my knuckles the only sound I allowed myself. My feet ached from a long day at my part-time job, but now here I am again.

Minutes turned into an hour.

And then another.

My legs trembled, my throat became dry. The smell of food made me dizzy, and every bite my stepmother took echoed in my ears like mockery.

Kiara finally spoke, her voice thick with disdain. “Honestly, why are you even still here, Liora? You don’t do anything right. You’re useless. Like a bad stain on this house that won’t come out. Your presence annoys me so bad and I don’t know why my mom is still keeping you around.”

I flinched but I kept my eyes forward, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

“Mom asked me to stand here, Kiara.” I said firmly.

I am not your mother,” Veronica spat, each word dripping like poison, her eyes fixed anywhere but on me. She blotted her perfectly painted lips with a napkin.

“We’re done here,” she said, her tone cold enough to frost glass. “I’ve completely lost my appetite the moment you dared to call me that. It’s pathetic—irritating, really. Your mother…” she let the word curl into a sneer, “is rotting in the ground where she belongs. Don’t you ever put me in the same breath as that useless dead woman again.”

I took a shaky breath, thinking I might finally get to eat or retreat upstairs.

But Kiara’s voice cut through the room, sharp and smug.

“Don’t just stand there. Pack the table. Clean everything. You know, since that’s all you’re good for.”

I swallowed hard.

I was older than Kiara. By four full years. And yet here I was treated like a servant in the only place I had left to call home.

My hands moved on their own, scraping plates and stacking cutlery, while Veronica and Kiara left the room, their laughter fading down the hallway.

I was invisible.

Just as I was packing the plates I heard footsteps, I turned my gaze to the door only to see Anny, my childhood friend.

“Hey…” Anny called, her voice low and firm.

I dropped the plate slowly then I ran to her. “Anny.” I said, hugging her very tight.

“Why are you the one packing the plates?” Anny’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the empty dining room. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but the irritation simmered beneath it.

I laughed—short and dry. “Don’t worry. These are just minor works. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Liora.” Anny crossed her arms, her brows raised. “You’re not their maid.”

“Tell that to them since you guys are much closer.” I shrugged and bent down to pick up a fallen napkin. “Besides, if I don’t do it, they’ll just leave it for me anyway. Might as well get it over with.”

Anny looked at me like she wanted to argue, but she let it go. For now. “Well, I was going to the hospital for a quick check-up today. Thought I’d drag you with me.”

I straightened, blinking. “A check-up? You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, waving it off. “It’s nothing serious. Just… I’ve been having these headaches and dizziness. Thought I should make sure I’m not dying or anything.”

I chuckled, but my smile faded when I saw the hint of something else in her expression. Worry? Or something deeper?

“I’ll come,” I said, not needing much convincing. “Honestly, I’ve been looking for a way to get out of this house today.”

Anny smiled. “Good. Grab your bag. I parked out front.”

I tossed the dishcloth aside, wiped my hands on my jeans, and nodded. “Give me two minutes.”

*****

The air outside was a cool relief. Crisp, fresh, and garlic-free. Anny’s car—a beat-up red Civic with stickers on the bumper and a personality of its own—sat waiting like an old friend.

“Still haven’t changed the car?” I teased as I climbed in.

“Bite me. This baby still runs better than most people’s personalities.”

We both laughed. For a second, just one, I felt like myself again.

The hospital wasn’t far, just twenty minutes of light traffic and Anny’s chaotic playlist ranging from sad girl ballads to trap music. It was comforting and weirdly familiar.

“You sure it’s nothing?” I asked again as we entered the clinic’s reception.

“Positive.” Anny gave my hand a quick squeeze. “Wait with me, though. I’ll feel better.”

I nodded and we checked in. While she filled out some forms, I sank into a worn-out chair by the wall, glancing around. People came and went. Families, kids, tired parents, and the quiet hum of hospital life surrounded us.

But something felt off.

It wasn’t the hospital.

It was me.

Like something was shifting beneath the surface.

Maybe it was just hunger. Or exhaustion. Or the years of being treated like a stain.

“Liora?” Anny’s voice pulled me back.

I stood quickly. “Yeah?”

“They said it might take a while. You wanna go grab snacks from the vending machine or something?”

“Sure.”

We walked to the end of the hallway, near the elevators. The machine hummed quietly, glowing with the promise of overpriced chips and watered-down juice.

“Pick something,” I told her, slipping a note into the machine.

Anny smirked. “This is a nice treat.”

I rolled my eyes. “Only on special days like hospital check-ups.”

She reached for a bottle of water and some granola bars. “So. Tell me the truth. How bad is it at home?”

I froze a little.

She noticed.

“I’m not trying to push,” she added quickly. “But you looked like you were about to pass out in that dining room.”

“It’s manageable,” I said softly, my gaze on the swirling label of the vending machine water.

“Liora—”

“I know it’s bad. I do. But I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

She sighed, she didn’t respond, but then she got a call and then she handed me what she bought then she ran off.

“I gotta go.” She muttered silently to me.