Chapter 7
When I got back to Dad’s house, I saw him and Quinn sitting on the couch again.
My heart dropped-busted again!
I tried to sound casual: “Dad, Mom came to pick me up from school today. Said she wanted to walk me home.”
“Ugh, I’m old enough now-I don’t need her walking me anywhere.”
“But after I said no, she still insisted on walking me back, said it wasn’t safe for girls to walk alone at night.”
A flash of shame crossed Dad’s face-he’d never once thought about whether it was safe for me walking home at night.
He coughed, his expression softening, but still felt the need to lecture me with fatherly authority: “Since you chose to live with me,
you should have less contact with your mother. It affects our life now.”
“Got it, Dad.”
My obedience pleased him, and he reached for his wallet to give me spending money.
I looked at him expectantly, but Quinn tugged on Dad’s hand as he was pulling out his wallet.
Dad paused and put the wallet away.
Quinn looked satisfied and smiled: “Sienna’s so capable, not like me—I’m just a beautiful waste of space.”
“Your dad works so hard too-not only does he work to make money, but when he comes home he has to do all the housework,
cooking and laundry. It would be great if someone could help him out.”
When Quinn saw that Sienna just stood there like a block of wood not responding, she tugged on Lincoln’s arm again, making him
speak.
Lincoln didn’t want to, but he knew if he didn’t go along with Quinn today, she’d probably give him hell for it.
“Sienna, you’re getting older now. It’s time you helped Dad out with some chores.”
Lincoln couldn’t even look at me. He felt ashamed.
After all, the kid’s real mom had never made her do any housework.
But I sweetly agreed: “Dad, what kind of chores can I help with? I already wash my own clothes now.”
Lincoln felt guilty. He paid so little attention to his daughter that he didn’t even know she was washing her own clothes. All his attention was on Quinn.
He said gruffly: “Never mind, just take care of yourself. Don’t worry about the housework for now.”
“Okay, Daddy.” The moment I finished speaking, Quinn stormed off in anger.
I didn’t say anything-just kept playing the part of the obedient good daughter.
It was almost midnight and I was still sitting on my bed reading when Quinn threw a pink slip dress she’d worn onto my bed.
Her smile was malicious: “This dress is silk-can’t be machine washed. I’ll have to trouble you to hand wash it, Sienna.”
I asked flatly: “Does Dad know?”
“Your dad…” Quinn deliberately drew out her words, but when she saw I showed no reaction, she said coldly: “Lincoln’s the one who
sent me.”
After she said that, she swayed out of the room.
I turned off the light and threw the dress in the corner.
Dad and Quinn were absolutely disgusting-making the legitimate wife’s daughter wash the mistress’s clothes!
I bit my lip hard until I tasted blood before letting go.
Dad’s love had to be fought for, and clearly I didn’t weigh as much in his heart as Quinn did.
