Chapter 6. Trying My Best

* Julliane *

"Why are you in my daughter's room, Primo?"

My mother's voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade. Her tone was cold, accusatory, and heavy with restrained fury. Her eyes moved between the two of us, me on the bed, and Mister Dankworth standing just inside the door. Her gaze on me was different, almost like she saw something disgusting she didn't want to deal with.

Mister Dankworth turned to her, his brows knitting together with concern rather than defensiveness.

"I passed by Julliane's room and noticed her crying. I just asked her what was wrong."

Marriane didn't reply immediately. She looked past him, her attention fixed on me now like a spotlight. "And why are you crying, Julliane?"

The way she asked didn't sound like a mother worried about her child. Her words were sharp and void of warmth, like I was an inconvenience for expressing emotions. It wasn't concern, I could hear the irritation buried under each syllable.

Before I could respond, Mister Dankworth spoke again, this time more gently.

"It's only natural, darling. Your daughter misses her grandfather. I suggested she call him, but she felt shy about making a long-distance call. She shouldn't feel that way, she's part of the family. And I also understand her mobile phone isn't working. We should get her a new one."

He looked at my mother with the soft insistence of a man trying to keep peace.

"Maybe it's best if you talk to her, Marriane."

Then, without waiting for her reply, he stepped out of my room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Marriane remained still for a moment before walking toward me. The sound of her heels on the hardwood floor was like a countdown before something bad. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing.

"What is this, Julliane?" Her voice rose. "Look at yourself your t-shirt is wet, and to think you were sitting there talking to my husband like some lost little girl! You're not a child anymore. You're taller than me, and that body of yours." She shook her head, disgusted. "You should have more self-awareness! And what are you doing on the bed, soaking it with your wet clothes?"

I froze, unsure how to respond. I opened my mouth, stammering, "I... I'm wet from the sea, Mom."

She scoffed. "You came from the sea? Then why didn't you change immediately? Do you think it's appropriate to sit around like that? And don't you dare ask Primo for a new phone. Who do you think you are? You can use the phone in the library if you're desperate to call your grandpa. We are not here to buy you whatever you want!"

"No, Mom, I didn't ask him to get me anything," I said quickly, my throat tightening. "He was just being nice. I mentioned that I hadn't tried charging my phone yet, it's still in the luggage. He offered, not me."

Her expression didn't soften at all. In fact, the anger in her eyes intensified.

"Don't twist it. You're manipulating him, don't think I don't see it! You might've fooled him with your tears, but not me. Don't think Primo is your father now or that he's going to start treating you like you're special. He is my husband. Mine. And you have no right to seek his attention!"

Her voice cracked slightly, like jealousy was pushing her anger to the edge of reason.

"One of these days," she added, stepping back toward the door, "I'm sending you back to your grandfather. I've had enough of you acting like this in front of my husband."

And just like that, she was gone. The door slammed behind her, rattling the frame.

I stared at the door, my chest tight, trying to process what had just happened. Was I really her daughter? Why did she talk to me like I was some outsider trying to steal what's hers? Why does she hate me so much?

I wiped my eyes. My thoughts drifted to Lance and Darren. Darren treated me like family, like a sister. But Lance... he barely looked at me without glaring.

But I wanted to change that. I had to. Maybe if I showed him that I cared, that I respected this place, he'd see I wasn't here to ruin anything.

The next morning...

I stood by the stables, watching the helpers tend to the horses. My eyes found Lance's horse it stood taller, more majestic than the rest. I had watched Lance ride him before. He treated that horse better than most people treat each other.

I approached one of the stable hands and hesitated. "Hi... um, would it be okay if I help you bathe this one?" I pointed toward Lance's horse.

The man looked at me, surprised, then smiled kindly. "Sure. Just be gentle. He's calm today."

I nodded and stepped forward, brushing the horse's mane softly. The animal made a low, pleased sound. I smiled, grateful for even this tiny connection.

Then came the voice behind me.

"What are you doing, Julliane?"

I turned quickly. Lance was standing there, tall and imposing, arms crossed and brows furrowed. I thought he looked great on a t-shirt and jeans but with cowboy boots ready to ride his horse.

"Oh, uhm... I was just helping. I thought I could bathe your horse..."

His expression darkened. "You're Marriane's daughter. My father's stepdaughter. You didn't come here to play servant. Stop doing this."

He turned to the stable hand and barked, "Take over. Don't let her touch him again."

The helper looked startled but nodded, taking the brush from me.

Lance turned his full attention back on me. "Don't touch any of the horses again. They're not toys. And this isn't your place to act like part of the staff."

Then, without another word, he walked off. His steps were heavy with frustration.

I murmured a soft, "I'm sorry," to the helper and stepped back. My heart sank again.

I had tried. I really tried. But still, he saw me as a nuisance. A threat. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I just stood there wondering. What can I possibly do to make him see I'm not the enemy?