Hilarious

Chapter 3: Hilarious

**Hannah’s POV**

I stormed out of the banquet hall, trashing my heels, actually the borrowed heels from Lily, into a nearby trash can with a satisfying clatter, my number toes made me wanna scream!

The cool stone pressed against my bare feet as I hurried toward the curb fueled by irritation.

Everyone was getting on my nerves. First, my new family, with their judgments about the incident with Lily’s necklace. Lily, playing the perfect little angel while spinning a lie. And now, that arrogant, insufferable jerk on the balcony, his sharp mouth and condescending smirk had been the final straw.

I hailed a taxi without caring where it would take me, I just needed to get away from this glittering cage I was suddenly expected to call home.

As the car pulled away, my eyes caught on a couple pressed into a shadowed corner of the street, locked in a messy kiss. I rolled my eyes. Go get a room! Public displays of affection have always irritated me. Half the time, it wasn’t about love at all, it was about performing intimacy for an audience.

Real affection looked nothing like that. Real affection was quieter, gentler… and it made me think of the orphanage. I missed the warmth there, the simple way people cared without needing an audience. I missed Sister Martha most of all. She had cried when I left, clutching my hands like she was afraid I would slip through her fingers forever.

* Flashback – One Week Ago*

I returned to the orphanage during the vacation from school, knowing the least i could do for this amazing family was volunteer. I was shelving a stack of battered storybooks, the kind with peeling covers and scribbles in the margins, when little Peter tugged at my sleeve.

“Miss Hannah, look!” he shouted, holding up a puzzle piece like a trophy.

I smiled, ruffled his hair, and bent to slip another book onto the shelf. The chatter of children and Sister Martha’s humming from the kitchen wrapped around me like a quilt, I enjoyed visiting the orphanage because I grew up here, it was more like home.

“Excuse me,” a voice distracted me.

I turned and a strange woman stood there, her eyes fixed on me so hard my stomach twisted.

“Can I speak to you for a second?” she whispered, glancing toward the children as though the walls had ears.

I straightened, frowning. “Do I… know you?”

Her lips trembled, but her words came steady. “No. But I know you. You’re the daughter of the Black family.”

The stack of books slipped from my arms, thudding against the floor. It was as though the air had been sucked out of the room.

“W…what?” My voice cracked, brittle and too loud. “The daughter of… who?”

“The Black family. They’re looking for you.”

A short, sharp laugh tore out of me. “You’ve got to be kidding. If this is a scam, you need a better script. I don’t have any money, hell, I don’t even have a proper pair of shoes half the time. Try someone else.”

She gave me that stare, unflinching like she wasn’t kidding and the thought of finally finding my family sent chills down my spine, after all these years? “I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t even know who the Black family are.”

Before she could say any further thing that would spike my curiosity, I spun on my heel away from her to keep myself busy with something else.

“Miss Hannah! Could you help me with these?” Peter asked as soon as he saw me approaching.

“Yeah, sure, you have a very beautiful shirt.” I was fastening Peter’s buttons when the intercom crackled, jolting me.

“Hannah, please come to the volunteer break room.”

When I got to the room, I already felt something was off. I saw an elegant woman sitting waiting, her hands trembling in her lap. Her eyes lifted to mine, and in that instant, something inside me lurched.

It was like staring into a mirror. Everything about her screamed ‘my mother’, recognition crashed over me, raw and undeniable.

She rose slowly, as though afraid to startle me, her voice breaking when she spoke. “Hannah…”

The sound of my name in her mouth cracked something open in me I hadn’t realized was still there. That desperate, childlike longing for a mother, came roaring back.

Every part of me was caught between suspicion and an ache I couldn’t swallow.

She reached out to me, hugged me, and started sobbing.

Sister Martha convinced me she was my mother and urged me to follow her home. It felt like the best day of my life.

***

The Black family mansion was even more breathtaking up close than I had imagined. The marble floors gleamed beneath my shoes, reflecting the soft glow of chandeliers. Portraits of people I didn’t know lined the hallways, their painted eyes following me like I was a stranger trespassing in their world. My fingers trailed over the carved banisters, every detail reminding me this wasn’t just a house, it was a legacy I had never belonged to.

“Ah!”

I jumped, my heart skipped a bit when Lily appeared out of nowhere. She was radiant, smiling so brightly it almost blinded me.

“You must be Hannah,” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement, as though my arrival was the best thing that had happened all week.

I nodded quickly, clutching the strap of my worn out bag a little tighter.

She pulled me into a hug, holding me with a warmth I hadn’t expected. “I’m Lily,” she said, her smile widening as if we had known each other forever.

On the ride over, my mother had explained that I had a sister who had been switched with me at birth, but they adopted her after finding out she wasn’t really their daughter, Lily and two older biological brothers. I had always imagined what it felt like to have siblings, it excited me to know I had three siblings.

“Come on, let me show you around,” Lily said eagerly. Her hand brushed my arm, urging me to follow.

She was so… nice. She led me through room after room, naming each one with cheerful precision, pausing at family portraits and heirlooms, explaining their history as if she had memorized every detail by heart. I smiled and nodded, trying to keep up, though each relic felt like a reminder of how much I had missed, how absent I had been from their story.

When we reached the second floor, Lily stopped at a door and rested her hand on the knob. “This one is mine,” she said softly. Then she turned to me with an almost selfless smile, one that seemed rehearsed in its sweetness. “But I’d like you to have it, Hannah. I’ll take the guest room near the piano. It’s smaller, but I’ll be fine. I want you to feel at home here.”

I blinked at her, startled. Kindness wasn’t foreign to me, I had grown up around warmth at the orphanage but this was different. A little too generous. Still, her tone left no room for argument, so I accepted, my chest warming with the thought: she really wanted me here. She was such a dear sister.

By the time I finished unpacking my luggage that the staff had helped me with, the estate had begun to feel less like a stranger’s palace and more like a place I might, with time, belong.

I heard a knock at my door, and I opened it to find a young man standing there, tall and broad-shouldered. His expression shifted the moment he saw me, his warmth flickering into bitterness so quickly it was jarring. He had clearly expected Lily.

“Hi,” I said softly, forcing a smile. “I’m Hannah.”

His eyes flicked over me, then away, hard and dismissive. Disgust glimmered there, sharp enough to slice. My chest tightened. Someone didn’t want me here.

“Lily!” His voice boomed down the hall, startling me.

The door near the piano opened, and Lily stepped out, serene as ever.

“Lily, what are you doing in there?” His voice cracked like a whip, sharp and cutting.

Our parents had just arrived, and his anger turned on them like a storm finding new ground. “That room has been empty for years,” he snapped, gesturing toward the door behind me. “It isn’t suitable, and now Hannah shows up and immediately takes Lily’s place?”

My stomach twisted.

“Ray.” My mother’s voice was firm, unyielding, carrying an authority that silenced even the creak of the house. “Why are you sounding that way? Hannah is your sister.”

Ray let out a low, humorless laugh. His mouth curled in a bitter smile. “And Lily?” His gaze cut between them, sharper than glass. “She’s lived here for twenty years. Does she matter less now that your real daughter is back?”

Oh well, I thought of disappearing with embarrassment right there.

My gaze darted to Lily. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, her face composed, porcelain-perfect. She didn’t argue or defend that she had asked that we switched the rooms, and that baffled me.

Heat flooded my chest, it tangled with guilt. I didn’t want to come in and cause any problems in the house. “I… I can switch rooms,” I said quickly, my voice barely audible but enough to cut the tension. “I don’t mind the other room, it’s just as cool.”

Ray’s gaze pinned me in place, sharp enough to make the air catch in my throat. His eyes lingered, with fury and I wondered if I could live with such a brother who didn’t even say hi to me in our first encounter.

My father broke the silence with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. His weariness carried the authority of finality. “Fine. Switch them back.”

Lily inclined her head with serene obedience, her calm as unbroken as porcelain. It was as though the balance had been restored, the order of things preserved, and she was perfectly at peace with it.

That night, hunger drove me from my bed. I was restless, and I needed to eat something, so I opened my door gently to go get something to eat, and it startled me to see Ray sneaking into Lily’s room.

My breath caught, and instinct pressed me back into my room.

I blinked, certain I had misunderstood, that fatigue was twisting my vision. It had to be just a brother checking on a sister. Right?

I tried to think about it, but my stomach growled again, drifting me away from my thoughts.

I had to eat something, it sucks to be a foodie. People are usually addicted to smoking, drugs, sex, and things worth being addicted to, but I am addicted to food. Isn’t that hilarious?