Real Daughter's Revenge novel Chapter 3

Early the next morning. I packed my things, ready to leave.

Lena stood in my doorway, dressed in pink pajamas, her face the picture of innocence. “Jessie, are you really leaving?”

“What does it matter to you?” I kept packing.

“Jessie.” she stepped into the room, her voice barely rose above a whisper, “you don’t have to pretend to be so strong. It must hurt, being rejected by your own parents, doesn’t it?”

I paused, turning to look at her.

She went on. “Last night, Mom, Dad, and Bernie were talking about making you move out. You must be heartbroken.

“It’s okay, you can cry if you want.”

“You were eavesdropping outside?”

She smiled sweetly. “I was just passing by.”

“Jessie, do you know why they don’t love you?”

I looked at her, intrigued. “Why?”

“Because I’ve lived in this house for 18 years!

“My photos cover the walls, my trophies fill the shelves, and they never forget my birthday.

“And you,” she paused, “you have nothing.”

“So?”

She leaned closer, lowering her voice, “There’s no place for you in this family. Even if you’re the real one, you’re still unnecessary.”

I laughed

So she was finally showing her true colors

“Lena,” I whispered back, “do you know what DNA is?”

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She blinked, caught off guard.

“DNA is proof of blood. No matter how many years you’ve lived here, no matter how many pictures of you hang on these walls, you’re still the impostor. But me-”

I pointed to myself. “I don’t have to do anything to be real.”

Her expression changed instantly

“And.” I grabbed my suitcase. “who told you I was moving out? I’m just heading to school to pick

up a few things. This is my house–why would I leave?”

As I dragged my suitcase downstairs, I ran into Bernard on his way out

He saw my luggage and frowned. “Where are you going?”

“School.” I replied curtly

“I’ll drive you”

“No need ”

“I said I’ll drive you.” His tone was firm.

I shrugged and let him lead the way.

He didn’t say a word the whole ride, and I had no interest in starting a conversation.

As we neared the campus, he suddenly spoke. “Don’t take last night to heart.”

“Mm

“Mom and Dad don’t hate you. It’s just that Lenny’s health is fragile. She needs extra care.

“Mm”

“Can you stop just saying ‘mm“?”

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I turned to him “What do you want me to say? That it’s fine, and I understand? That I’ll take good care of Lena?”

He rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Can’t you just act normal for once?”

“What do you mean by normal?”

“Like Lena–always ready to cry, always fainting at the drop of a hat? Is that normal?”

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“Lenny isn’t faking it!”

I rolled my eyes inwardly.

“Are you really that clueless, Bernard? Or are you just pretending? Do you really think someone with a heart condition can pick the perfect moment to have an episode and still cry so dramatically?”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “You don’t understand Lenny at all.”

“That’s true,” I said, getting out of the car.

“But I do know what a real heart attack looks like. My foster mother’s sister had one. When it hit, her face turned blue, she couldn’t even speak–nothing like Lena, who could still put on a show.”

I slammed the car door shut.

Bernard sat in the car for a long time before driving away.

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