At Scott Villa —
The maids surrounded Clara in the kitchen, their expression full of concern. Like any mont, their doom might start.
"Young Miss, please let us do it," the head maid, trying to take the knife from her.
However, Clara gently pulled her hand back.
"I want to do it myself," she said calmly. "If you want to help, then stay. Otherwise, you can leave. I can manage on my own."
"You’re the young mistress of the Scott family. How can we let you do our job? If you hurt even a little, we might lose our jobs," the head maid insisted, clearly anxious.
But Clara didn’t budge.
Holding the knife, she began chopping the vegetables.
"Nothing will happen," she said dismissively. "And even if sothing does, none of you will lose your jobs."
"But, Young Miss —"
A sharp clank of the knife hitting the board made the maid fall silent.
Clara set the knife down and turned, a faint pout forming on her lips.
"Aunt Matilda, why do you treat like a paper doll?" she asked softly. "What could possibly happen to if I cook dinner for my family for just one night?"
She then smiled gently.
"I may be the young miss of the Scott family now, but before coming here, wasn’t I just like everyone else? I’m used to doing things on my own —especially cooking. So please ... let do this."
The head maid gave a helpless smile. It wasn’t that she agreed —but she knew further persuasion would be useless.
A maid who seed new couldn’t hold back her admiration.
"The Young Miss is so kind and down to earth. No wonder everyone in the family loves and dotes on her so much. She is the first celebrity I’ve seen so kind, even in real life."
The other maids who stood near exchanged faint smiles.
"Did I say sothing wrong?" the new maid asked in a whisper, confused.
"You didn’t," another maid replied. "You’re just new here. You’ll understand everything better eventually."
"Ah–!"
A soft cry interrupted them.
The head maid rushed forward imdiately. "Young Miss, are you alright?"
Her gaze dropped to Clara’s hand.
Fresh blood was oozing out from her finger.
Though the cut was not deep, the sight still made their expression tighten with worry.
"What’s happening here?"
A voice from the doorway froze everyone in place.
Clara looked up. "Mom!" she called softly, tears glistening in her eyes.
Charlotte frowned as she walked over. "Clara, what are you doing in the kitchen?"
Clara quickly hid her injured hand behind her back and forced a smile.
"Nothing. I was ho today, so I thought I’d prepare lunch for everyone ... but I ruined it."
"You didn’t have to, sweetheart," Charlotte said, her lips pressed into a thin line. "How many tis have I told you? We have people for this."
"But Mom, I wanted to —"
She stopped as a flicker of pain crossed her face —sothing she clearly tried to hide.
But Charlotte noticed.
Anyone would have.
Her gaze sharpened as she stepped closer to inspect.
"What’s wrong with your hand?"
Clara tried to avoid her, but it was futile.
"Oh God, you’re hurt."
"Mom, it’s just a small cut. I’m fine," Clara reassured her.
But the sight of blood only made Charlotte more distressed.
"How can you be fine? It’s bleeding, and no one even attended to it!" she snapped, turning sharply toward the maids. "What were you all doing? Couldn’t you see?"
The head maid quickly gestured for soone to bring the first aid kit.
"Madam, it just happened when you arrived. We didn’t get the chance —"
"That’s enough. Save your excuses."
Carefully holding Clara’s arm, Charlotte guided her out.
"Bring the first aid box quickly."
As they settled in the living room, one of the maids brought the first aid kit and handed it to the lady.
"Mom, I’m really fine," Clara said softly. Although she looked troubled, the faint smile flickering in her eyes told him she was enjoying the affection. "You don’t have to worry over sothing so small. I’ve endured much worse before."
"But that was before," Charlotte replied, frowning as she cleaned the wound and placed a bandage over it. "You were hurt when we weren’t there —and we still feel guilty about it. Do you have to add to that guilt?"
"Mama—"
"Clara," Charlotte interrupted, her voice trembling slightly, "you’re the daughter I got after so long. I can never make up for the years that I lost with you. But don’t test a mother’s love like this. I love you so much ... it breaks my heart to see you hurt —even a little."
Her eyes welled with tears.
Seeing that, Clara imdiately hugged her.
"Mama, I am sorry. I’ll be more careful next ti. I —"
"Mom? Clara?"
Liam’s voice cut in.
Clara pulled away and looked toward him.
"Liam, you are back already?" she said, her smile faltering ever so slightly. "I’m sorry ... I wanted to cook for everyone, but I couldn’t."
Liam was about to dismiss it —but then his gaze fell on the bandage on her finger. And his expression darkened instantly.
"You got hurt?"
"It’s nothing serious," Clara said, showing him. "It’ll heal soon."
"Why did you even step into the kitchen? Liam’s frown deepened. He turned sharply, ready to reprimand the staff —but Clara grabbed his arm.
"Liam, don’t bla them," she said urgently. "Aunt Matilda tried to stop . I was the one who insisted."
When he looked at her, she added firmly, "I brought this upon myself. Don’t bla anyone else."
Liam pressed his lips together.
"If you know that, then don’t go into the kitchen again," he said. "You don’t need to. If you want sothing, just ask. They’ll prepare it for you."
"But I didn’t do it for myself. I wanted to prepare dinner for all of you."
"I’ll repeat, you don’t have to," Liam said again. "Even if you want to cook, just ask them to prepare it and say you made it. We won’t question you. You have the liberty to lie to us, and we’ll still choose to trust you."
"You —" Clara nearly whined. "How’s that even the sa? Mama, look —Liam is being ridiculous."
Charlotte smiled faintly, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Before she could respond, Liam spoke again.
Placing a hand gently on Clara’s head, he caressed her hair.
"It’s the sa for us," he said softly. "Even if you do nothing, we’ll love you just the sa. "You’re our sister —one of us. You don’t need to prove anything."
Clara smiled, satisfied.
She glanced at Charlotte, who nodded in agreent.
"You all spoil too much," Clara said with a light laugh. "But I enjoy it."
She looked down at her slightly stained dress. "I think I should change. Excuse —I’ll be back soon."
With that, she headed upstairs.
Once she was gone, Charlotte sighed, her gaze lingering on the stairs.
"She’s finally starting to feel like part of the family," she murmured. "If only Adelyn were here ... how perfect it would’ve been."
Liam’s fingers clenched at her words.
Regret flashed across his face —raw and undisguised. "Mom ... I—I’m sorry."
Charlotte looked at him, but said nothing.
So guilt didn’t deserve comfort.
"Even if you regret it now, it’s useless," she said quietly. "You can’t tell her. She’s gone."
"What if she isn’t?"
The voice from the entrance made them both freeze.
Charlotte turned sharply, and so did Liam.
"Bryer," she said, startled. "What do you an?"
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