Chapter 3

At two in the afternoon, the production staff began eating lunch.

Their meals weren't meant for us.

But when the smell drifted over, I instinctively lifted my head.

Grilled chicken sandwiches.

Creamy mashed potatoes.

And steaming bowls of mushroom soup.

The staff opened their lunch boxes, and the aroma quickly filled the courtyard.

I stared for a second before hurriedly looking away.

My stomach twisted.

I turned toward the well and washed a bucket, splashing cold water onto my face.

I was so hungry.

I lowered my head, not wanting the cameras to catch my expression.

The girl with the pink suitcase was named Vivian.

She walked over and handed me a tissue.

"You look so pale."

I took it.

"Thank you."

She studied my face.

"Did you skip breakfast?"

I said, "I ate."

My fingers were still trembling as I lied.

Vivian seemed about to ask something else, but the director called her over to reshoot a scene, so she had to leave.

I leaned against the well and rested for a while.

Although my mother had passed away when I was very young, I'd had a happy childhood.

During school outings, dad would personally prepare snacks for me. My brother Ethan always made sure I had his coat whenever it was cold.

Every winter, the family had new school uniforms tailored just for me.

Adrian also remembered all my preferences and always gave me wonderful presents on my birthday.

Back then, I'd never had to worry about money or food.

Everything changed six months ago, when Lily was found and brought back.

Our family adopted her.

She said she'd suffered terribly as a child and hadn't even owned a decent set of clothes.

Father felt sorry for her. My brother and Adrian also believed she deserved to be compensated for everything she'd missed.

So the things in our home gradually began going to her first.

My birthday present was canceled.

Even the new school uniform I'd received every year was no longer in the budget.

They told me Lily needed those things more than I did.

I didn't argue.

After all, I'd already enjoyed nearly eighteen years of happiness. I should learn to make room for someone else.

But I was reaching my limit.

By evening, we'd nearly finished our tasks.

I bent down to pick up some firewood.

The moment I lifted it, my vision suddenly went black.

I stumbled, and the wood scattered across the ground.

Daniel immediately came over.

"Cecilia, what's wrong?"

I steadied myself against the wall and forced a smile.

"Nothing. I just lost my grip."

He watched me for a few seconds.

"Take a break."

"I'm fine."

"Your lips are practically white."

His tone turned stern.

"Sit down."

I had no choice but to sit against the courtyard wall.

A staff member brought me a cup of warm water.

I held it in both hands and took small sips.

The water settled in my stomach, but it felt like it was falling into an empty pit.

The more I drank, the hungrier I became.

Just then, Father's voice came through the earpiece connected to the production team.

He'd been watching the live feed.

"Cecilia, are you putting on an act again?"

I froze.

His voice came through the earpiece.

"I heard you're always pretending to be pitiful in front of outsiders."

"If you're going to be on the show, then behave yourself. Don't bring that act in front of the cameras."

My head began to buzz.

Pretending?

I lowered my eyes to my trembling hands.

I wanted to tell him, Dad, I'm really not pretending.

I'm really hungry.

But I opened my mouth and eventually said only:

"I'm not."

Father was silent for a few seconds.

"See that you aren't."

His voice soon disappeared from my earpiece.

At six-thirty that evening, the dinner table was finally set.

A wooden basin was placed in the middle.

Inside was a basket of rye bread.

Beside it sat a large pot of potato soup, a plate of pickled cucumbers, and a few boiled potatoes that had been cooked until soft.

The rye bread had been sitting around for several days.

Its edges were hard, its surface slightly damp, and it gave off a faint sour smell.

The other contestants immediately looked displeased.

"Seriously? We're actually eating this?"

"Is this bread going bad?"

"Is there any meat? I haven't eaten all day!"

"Is this all the production team is giving us?"

I couldn't hear what they were saying anymore.

My eyes were fixed on the basket of rye bread.

There was so much of it.

So much that, for a moment, it didn't feel real.

I swallowed.

It had been a long time since anyone had prepared so much food for me at once.