Page 1 of Wicked Surrender

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LAURA

It wasn’t often that I had downtime between study sessions and working on assignments. That was just the kind of lifestyle that came with being a full-time pre-med student. I’d made my bed, and I’d lie in it. Mostly, I loved the high of doing well academically. I loved learning and pushing myself.

But if and when I did feel caught up and with a chance to relax in this hectic junior year of undergrad, I sure didn’t want to spend it likethis.

“More Brussels sprouts?” my mom offered as she held up the serving dish for me to take some more.

My hatred of the vegetable started when I was a toddler, and it hadn’t changed since. She damn well knew it, too.

I froze and smiled, aware that I’d need to appear polite and sweet, even at this private family dinner at home. “No, thank you.”

My grandmother sighed, as if I were a difficulty to bear. “Come now, Laura.” She furrowed her brow. Or I thought she did. She’d had so much cosmetic work done, she didn’t really pull off many expressions anymore. “Your mother spent all day making this scrumptious meal.”

No, she didn’t. She hired the cook to make it.

“You should be grateful for all the hard work she put into perfecting this for us.”

She didn’t do anything. And when have I ever said anything to suggest I’m not grateful?

She was right about the perfection, though. The Chen family would never settle for anything less and would always expect the best. Appearance mattered more than comfort or personal preferences.

“I’m just full,” I protested politely, not wanting that stinky veggie on my plate. I seldom spoke up or neared the concept of talking back, but those things were just nasty. I knew I was a pushover, but not this time.

My mother lifted her chin, as if I were such a headache by not doing as I was told. Which was ironic as fuck. I followed all their expectations. I always had, and I bet I always would. It was the only way I knew to live. Being forced to be perfect, I grew up withgood girlemblazoned on my soul.

I was a straight-A, pre-med student, which was a concentration chosen by my father, the dean of the department. I was an obedient rule-follower who stayed within the neat lines of being a quiet student and a respectful daughter. I was even stuck to my parents’ rigid ideals for me to the point of dating Ethan.

My boyfriend sat next to me during this miserable excuse for a family dinner, not speaking up once so he could avoid being a bother. But they’d chosen him and encouraged me to “get to know him”, all because he was an excellent student and was already accepted into the prestigious med school that was my father’s alma mater.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take some more, please.” My older sister, Mai, smiled sweetly, holding up her plate for Mom to slide more Brussels sprouts onto her dish.

You suck up.

Mai kept her smile in place, turning to make eye contact with me as she kissed ass to Mom. If I stared long enough, I bet I could hear her thoughts, too.

And they’d sound like gleeful laughter, knowing she was getting Mom and Dad’s approval while I didn’t. I never would, no matter what I did.

Mai hated Brussels sprouts too. Maybe even more than me. But she’d never miss out on a chance to suck up to them, pretending to be the better daughter, all for their approval and love.

Like you even need to bother.According to our parents—according to the whole world—Mai was perfect in every way. Sickeningly, nauseatingly perfect.

Lowering my head, I ignored the pushiness to take the fucking vegetable and willed this dinner to be over already. Like every first Wednesday evening of the month, I was expected to sit here and look like an innocent, eager-to-please daughter. For two whole hours, I’d have to endure this “family” time.

It was more like a trial of holding every last thread of my patience, because no matter what was said or who did what, it was guaranteed that I’d leave the dining room with one fact reprinted into my psyche.

Second-Best Chen.

Always. I would always be less than compared to the paradigm of a daughter that Mai was.

She got better grades. She was personable and confident. She excelled in any and everything she did, and it was getting really,reallyold.

“Make sure you save room for dessert,” Mom announced to us all moments later. “I baked it special just for you, darling.” She beamed at Mai.

I chewed on my bite of chicken, finding it tasteless.You haven’t baked a thing in your life, Mom.

I supposed that was a blessing in disguise. Hired chefs and housekeepers kept things livable around here. Her purpose of being a “homemaker” was a joke at best. But it wasn’t the lie or her claim to credit that peeved me. Just that she had to—again—single out another fucking reason to cherish my sibling.

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