But as much as I tried to push him from my mind, Keaton’s face lingered in my thoughts long after I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

I jolted awake,the morning light already streaming through the curtains. My heart sank as I glanced at the clock. Nearly nine. I bolted upright, my mind racing. I had overslept.

Scrambling out of bed, I quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, my fingers fumbling with the buttons in my haste. My stepmother would not be pleased.

I rushed downstairs, skipping steps two at a time, hoping against hope that they were still asleep. The kitchen was blissfully empty when I arrived, and I exhaled in relief. Maybe luck was on my side today.

Moving quickly, I began pulling out ingredients for breakfast: eggs, bread, cheese. The familiar routine helped calm my nerves a bit as I set about making omelets.

"Well, well," came a voice from the doorway.

I jumped, nearly dropping the skillet. Marion stood there, her arms crossed and a sardonic smile playing on her lips.

"You're up," she said, stepping into the kitchen.

"Yes," I replied, trying to keep my focus on the food sizzling in front of me.

"You know I like my breakfast at eight," Marion continued, her voice like ice. "And yet, it's nearly nine. For someone home alone, why did you sleep in? What gave you the idea you could?"

"I thought you guys would be home late and wouldn't want breakfast until later," I said quickly, flipping the omelet with a practiced motion.

Marion's eyes narrowed as she watched me work. "Convenient excuse."

I kept my head down, concentrating on getting the food onto plates. "It won't happen again."

She snorted softly but didn't respond immediately. Instead, she walked over to the table and sat down, drumming her fingers on the wooden surface.

The silence stretched between us as I finished cooking and brought the plates over to her. As soon as the food was in front of her, Marion's critical eye softened slightly.

"It better not," she said finally before picking up her fork and digging in.

I stood there for a moment longer before turning back to clean up the kitchen, trying to steady my breathing. One more morning survived.

“Is that makeup?” Marion's voice cut through the quiet like a knife. “Why would you be wearing makeup?”

My heart hammered in my chest, my mind scrambling for an excuse. Nothing came.

“Do you really think it makes you pretty?” she continued, her tone dripping with contempt. “Pathetic. You look just like your mother.”

I lifted my chin, fighting the urge to shrink under her gaze. “Thank you,” I said firmly.

Marion’s scowl deepened. “William will be by today,” she announced, leaning back in her chair. “He wants to spend time with you.”

“I have to study?—”

“Of course, I said you would love to,” she interrupted, her eyes glittering as she picked up a fork. “I already have a couple of investors lined up once his payment goes through. He wants to marry very soon.”

My stomach churned at her words.

“What? No thank you?” She asked, taking a bite of her omelet. “You wouldn’t have any other prospects if it weren’t for me. I’ve ensured you don’t die alone.”

“No,” I said quietly. “You’ve ensured you clean up your debts.”

“Tomato, toe-mah-toe,” she replied with a shrug. “Now, go shower. You reek. I don’t want you to dissuade William from this marriage before it even happens.”

She waved me away dismissively, and I turned on my heel, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.

In the privacy of my room, I allowed myself a moment of weakness. The tears came fast and hot, streaking down my face and smudging the makeup I forgot about from last night that had earned Marion’s scorn. I wiped them away angrily and gathered myself.