Chapter 4

The first piece of rye bread was hard.

I lowered my head and took a huge bite.

The dry crumbs scraped against my throat, leaving a faint sour taste.

But it was food.

The moment it reached my stomach, my eyes suddenly stung.

Afraid someone would notice, I lowered my head and ate even faster.

The second bite.

Then the third.

I finished the first piece in no time.

Immediately, I reached for another.

Someone beside me laughed.

"She's really going all out, isn't she?"

"Look at the cameras. Of course she has to make it convincing if she wants to go viral."

"Didn't her dad say she's picky? Guess she's changing her image now."

A girl covered her mouth, giggling.

"She must've seen everyone calling her spoiled in the livestream chat. Now she's trying to win people over."

"Rich heiress devours stale rye bread. What an inspiring story."

I heard every word.

Every single one.

But I couldn't stop.

When you'd been hungry for long enough, pride was the least filling thing in the world.

I wasn't trying to become famous.

I wasn't trying to create some new public image.

I was just afraid the food would disappear.

Afraid someone would take the basket away the next second.

I picked up the bowl of potato soup and took a sip.

It was thin, with barely a trace of oil.

But it tasted wonderful.

Even better than the free soup at the Academy cafeteria.

I reached for a third piece.

Then a fourth.

Then a fifth.

The cameras moved closer.

The staff's expressions shifted from amusement to surprise.

Meanwhile, the livestream chat was already exploding.

"LOL, has she forgotten she's the daughter of an Alpha family?"

"Does she think we're stupid? What heiress sees rye bread and reacts like she's looking at a lobster feast?"

"She's overdoing it. The scripted acting is so obvious."

"Didn't her dad say she spends money like water? Why is she pretending to starve now?"

"I bet five coins she'll start crying and say she never appreciated her family before."

"Faking poverty is disgusting. Even genuinely poor people would be offended."

I couldn't see the comments.

But I could feel everyone's eyes on me.

Their gazes seemed to wrap around me in layer after layer, like sheets of plastic.

Sticky. Suffocating.

With my mouth full of bread, I couldn't even explain myself.

By the time I reached the seventh piece, I started choking.

My throat felt as though a stone had become lodged inside it.

I struggled desperately to swallow.

Tears suddenly streamed down my face.

Daniel immediately handed me a glass of water.

"Drink some water. Slow down."

I took the glass and gulped it down.

My stomach was already painfully bloated.

But when a staff member reached out to move the basket away, I instinctively pressed my hand against it.

The entire courtyard fell silent for a moment.

Then someone muttered under their breath.

"She's even guarding her food."

"She's really committed to the act."

"The director should give her an award for this performance."

Daniel crouched beside me.

He wasn't laughing.

His voice was gentle.

"Cecilia, no one's going to take it away from you."

No one's going to take it away.

Those words felt so unfamiliar.

I looked up at him, tears still clinging to my cheeks.

The production team quickly called over the medical staff.

The doctor checked my blood sugar.

When the results came back, he frowned.

"Your blood sugar is dangerously low."

"Is this the only meal you've had today?"

I lowered my head and said nothing.

Daniel asked again.

"Cecilia, have you not been eating properly lately?"

I still didn't answer.

Father's warning kept echoing in my head.

Don't embarrass the family.

Just then, the observation room connected to the live broadcast again.

Father's voice came through, filled with barely concealed disappointment.

"Cecilia."

My entire body stiffened.

He asked:

"Why are you doing this?"

"You've never gone without food or clothes since you were little. When have I ever mistreated you?"

"Now you're grabbing food in front of all these people. Are you trying to make everyone think the Alpha family doesn't provide for you?"

I squeezed the half-eaten piece of rye bread in my hand.

Everyone was watching me.

I finally couldn't hold it in anymore.

"But I'm really not!"

Father fell silent.

I lifted my head toward the camera, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face.

"I'm really hungry."

I clutched the half-eaten bread so tightly that my fingertips went numb.

"I only get thirty coins a month."

"Thirty coins have to cover my food, transportation, and daily necessities."

"I was afraid to ask you for more because I didn't want you to think I was being unreasonable."

On the other side of the screen, dad's expression instantly froze.

The coffee cup slipped from his fingers.

It hit the floor and shattered with a loud crash.

The assistant beside him jumped to his feet.

"Alpha!"

But dad seemed not to hear him.

The next second, he shot to his feet.

His voice trembled, yet carried a terrifying edge.

"How much did she say?"

The director was stunned.

My dad stared at the screen.

"Thirty coins?"

He abruptly turned toward his assistant.

"I allocate thirty thousand coins for her every month."

"Who told her the family was only giving her thirty?"