CHAPTER 5

Marie Sue's POV

We were here.

A long, tree-lined driveway stretched ahead of us, the trees too perfect to be real, their branches softly illuminated by distant lights.

The Kensington Mansion came into view then; a sprawling, white stone building with gold detailing and vast windows that reflected the twilight sky as if they owned it.

I rested a hand against the glass, gasping in surprise.

“I really don't belong here,” I said quietly, the words not intended to be spoken aloud.

Lara covered my hand with her own. “You will.”

I didn't respond, because I wasn’t sure that was something that happened instantly, rather than something you became.

The car pulled to a stop and we got out, the air outside carrying an indefinable scent of wealth.

Inside the mansion, voices echoed before we even entered the grand dining hall, where they died down immediately to hushed murmurs as we walked in.

The long, polished table seemed to stretch forever; too many people, too many eyes. Forks were caught mid-air, mid-bite, and the whispers began.

“Who is that?”

“Is she with the staff?”

“Lara brought someone?”

I kept my face composed, though each gaze felt like a physical weight. Lara smiled, a perfect, untouched expression. “Everyone, this is Marie Sue.” She added, with a touch of pride, “Henry Sue's daughter.”

That name silenced the room, then produced a ripple of astonished gasps.

“The famous chef?”

“No way…”

“Henry Sue?”

Everyone at the table smiled and addressed me with interest, except the woman sitting at the far end. She simply stared, as though I had intruded into a space I didn’t have permission to inhabit.

As we sat down, I felt it again-the weight of every gaze, every unspoken thought that I somehow knew was present.

“So,” someone asked politely, “what do you do, Miss Sue?”

I hesitated for a split second, then decided the pretense was pointless. “I work as a waitress,” I said. Then, after another beat, I added quickly, “But I cook, too.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before the room reacted.

“A waitress?”

“She cooks?”

“That's... Interesting.” Interesting was always the word used when you weren't what they expected, but there was also something dismissive in the tone.

Lara smiled as if she had revealed a treasure. “Her father is Henry Sue, of course she cooks.”

Once again, the mood shifted slightly. A flicker of respect crossed some faces, curiosity replaced skepticism in others but the woman at the end of the table remained unchanged.

“Interesting,” she drawled, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “So you're a waitress pretending to be more.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off by a voice. “Don't.”

Everyone turned.

It was Jordan.

When had he arrived? No one heard him come in.

He walked over and slid into the seat beside me without a word.

“I didn’t know having a job meant lying,” he said blandly. “Marie works unlike most people here living off of their family name.”

Gasps followed, and the woman’s face grew stiff.

Jordan leaned back like the subject was closed. “She also cooks better than the chefs on the first floor.”

I looked at Jordan, unsure why he was doing this.

Lara looked extremely amused. The woman sitting across from me did not.

“This is the one,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “The one who you have brought into this family.”

Jordan’s voice grew quieter. “She is not one yet. But she is not going to be disrespected in my house.”

A hush fell, but it did not last long.

The doors on the other end of the hall threw themselves open.

All eyes-mine included-turned to the doors.

A woman with blonde curly hair wore a red silk dress and possessed a stature that commanded an aura, not requested it.

The room wasn't responding the way I had hoped for. Nobody was gasping or whispering. There was just a kind of silence... Like they had always known her.

Lara wasn't even surprised. That was enough to send a tremor through my stomach.

Kylie breezed in with about a dozen designer bags. She had a bright smile spread across her face.

“Hello, everyone,” she chirped. “I brought gifts.”

A few family members returned her smile before Kylie's eyes landed on me then the smile fell.

She took in a slow scan of me, then shoved the bags in my direction.

“You,” she stated. “Maid. Carry these gifts to the drawing room.”

A collective silence fell over the room.

I blinked. Maid?

Before I could respond, the woman who had been looking at me with hatred all night rose from her chair.

“Kylie,” she reprimanded gently. “That isn't a maid.”

Kylie's perfect brow furrowed. “She isn't?”

“No,” the woman confirmed. “That's Marie Sue.”

Kylie blinked in confusion. “Who?”

Lara sighed softly. “Jordan's fiance.”

Confusion dissolved immediately then Kylie burst out in laughter.

“This girl?” She pointed directly at me. “No way.”

Jordan's chair scraped beside me.

Kylie noticed Jordan finally, a smile gracing her lips. “Jordie! You're here too!”

Jordan scowled. “Don't call me that. We're not in high school.”

The reply was far more telling than any of her other insults. They knew each other.

Kylie walked around the table and stopped at the woman glaring at me all night, kissing her cheek. “Hello, Mother.”

Oh. I see it now.

Kylie's eyes went back to me, slowly. She took me in from head to toe, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I must assume that this is a joke,” she said with a laugh. “Because I can't imagine Jordan being seen with a thing like her.”

My fingers clenched under the table.

A thing?

Lara's face became sterner. “Careful, Kylie. You're barking up the wrong tree here.”

“I am being careful, Lara,” Kylie purred. “I'm simply trying to grasp this baffling situation.” Her gaze shifted back to me. “You brought a cook to a Kensington family dinner and dressed her like one of us?”

Heat crept up my face. Maybe I shouldn't have come here.

Jordan's voice cut through the tension.

“Watch your tone, Kylie.”

Kylie looked at Jordan. Her smile didn't fade.

“You're defending her?” She chuckled. “Honestly, that's a little creepy.”

She plopped down in the seat next to her mother like she owned the sprawling estate. “I didn't realize you had a soft spot for waifs.”

Lara made a warning noise, but Kylie didn't stop. “I mean, just look at her. She looks like she needs to be rescued.”

That one stung but I wasn't letting her get away with it this time. “I don't need rescuing.”

Kylie finally looked at me properly. “Oh.” She tilted her head. “She talks.”

Silence filled the room again.

Kylie grinned. “Tell me, Marie. Which part of this whole charade are you enjoying most? The house? The outfit? Or the fantasy that you fit in here?”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Suddenly, Jordan stood. The scraping of his chair across the floor echoed loudly through the hall.

Everyone looked at him in surprise; even Kylie's smile faltered.

Jordan's face was impossible to read. “You keep asking why she's here.”

Kylie crossed her arms. “Yes. I do.”

Before I could move, Jordan took my hand. His fingers wrapped around mine, sending a warmth through my palm.

The room seemed to collectively hold its breath. Kylie's eyes went wide.

Jordan's voice was low and steady. “Then let me make it abundantly clear. He tightened his grip slightly. “Marie isn't a guest, and she certainly isn't some charity case.”

Colour drained from Kylie's face.

Jordan met her gaze, then her mother's, then the rest of the family's. “She's my fiance.”

The room exploded with shocked shouts. “What?!”

Lara was beaming, almost clapping her hands together in delight.

Kylie shot to her feet. “You're lying.”

Jordan didn't flinch. “I'm not.”

Kylie stared at him, then at me, then back at him and for the first time since she had walked in, her face held a flicker of fear.

“I want a word with you,” she hissed.

Jordan let out a slow breath. “No.”

Kylie's eyes widened again.

Jordan's voice deepened. “Because unlike you, Kylie…” His gaze swept over me, then back to Kylie. “I have already made my decision.”

Kylie glared at me and in that moment I knew I had just made her my enemy.