Chapter 2

Stacy reclined on a white wicker chair, gazing through the branches of the towering trees cradling Conwford Manor's garden. A servant softly announced, "Miss Aurora has arrived," breaking the stillness. Sunlight caressed the lawn and flowers; nothing could disturb Stacy's tranquility as she sipped her afternoon tea. Then, Aurora arrived. Stacy held her gaze for a fleeting second before dismissing her with a curt flick of her wrist, as if Aurora were insignificant. Her eyes shifted away with a subtle twitch, as though she couldn't bear to look at something so simple for long.

"Mrs. Crawford," the servant murmured uncertainly, offering an awkward smile in the tense air.

"Take her to the back quarters," Stacy said lazily, waving her hand dismissively.

"But, ma'am, that's where the servants live. Miss Aurora is…" The servant hesitated, glancing nervously at Aurora, acutely aware of the impropriety of the order.

Stacy placed her teacup down with deliberate slowness. Her tone was icy, brooking no argument. "Maura just won her piano competition. We need to build her a music room. Griffin's growing up, and he'll need his own study. Where exactly am I supposed to find space for someone… unimportant?"

The servant's lips parted slightly, as if to protest, but defying Stacy's decisions was unheard of in this manor. She swallowed her words, her unease evident.

For Aurora, the scene played out like a twisted déjà vu—Stacy's cold voice, the flimsy excuse, the utter indifference. She was being relegated to the back quarters again, just as before.

The back quarters were narrow and dim, filled with the clamor of servants and the persistent hum of activity—far from ideal. But Aurora had never complained. Compared to the dilapidated, moldy house in the countryside where rats scurried over her feet at night, this place felt like a dream.

Even knowing the Crawford family resided in the main house, their rooms far grander than her own, she'd convinced herself to be grateful. But now? She was no longer the naive little girl who quietly accepted whatever fate offered. This manor, her mother's home, had been overrun by greedy outsiders. The Crawfords—they never saw her as family, and frankly, they didn't deserve to be hers.

Aurora's voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and sharp, laced with mockery. "Stacy, if I remember correctly, Crawford Manor belonged to my mother. Now that she's gone, the house is legally mine. It's rather absurd that you're living in my home and trying to shove me into the back quarters."

Stacy's composure faltered, her brittle facade cracking. She hadn't expected Aurora to know the truth, and the fleeting warmth in her eyes hardened.

Stacy finally snapped, setting her dessert aside with a sharp clatter. She whipped her head around to glare at Aurora, her eyes blazing with indignation. "This entire manor belongs to your father. As his wife, I have every right to decide where you stay. If you don't like it, go back to that miserable little hovel in the countryside!"

Her words were a thinly veiled threat. In Stacy's mind, Aurora should have been overflowing with gratitude for being allowed back into the Crawford fold. She felt that if Aurora had any sense, she'd be groveling for favor to avoid being sent back to her old life. The smart move for Aurora was to flatter and appease, or risk losing any semblance of comfortable living. The idea that Aurora might dare defy her, much less claim her rightful place, was laughable to Stacy.

"Aurora, please, don't upset Mrs. Crawford," the servant whispered urgently, fearing Aurora might push Stacy too far and be truly cast out.

Aurora's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Is it, really? How about we ask my father, then? After all, I could reclaim this entire estate."

At Aurora's confident tone, a tremor of fear ran through Stacy, though she quickly suppressed it. She knew the Crawford family's ruthless rise to power. But Aurora's confidence was unexpected, and unsettling. She's so cocky. I'm going to tell Jason how insufferable and arrogant this little brat is, Stacy thought bitterly.

"I'll find my own room," Aurora said with a dismissive wave. Without waiting for Stacy's reaction, Aurora walked toward the main house. The servant, flustered, hurried after her, worried Aurora might get lost.

On the discreet upper floor, the best room belonged to Maura. The door was open, revealing a lavishly decorated space. Plush carpets covered the floor, and every piece of furniture, every ornament, spoke of wealth and careful curation. This was a room that screamed opulence.

"This is Miss Crawford's room," the servant whispered, awestruck.

Aurora glanced at her and coolly corrected, "From now on, call her Miss Maura. The Crawford family doesn't have just one Miss Crawford."

Aurora's gaze, though not harsh, was chilling enough to send a shiver down the servant's spine. The servant quickly nodded.

"Miss Maura's still at school," the servant began, preparing to guide Aurora away. Her eyes, so cold and piercing, seemed to see right through the servant before she could say more. Aurora strode toward the room.

"She doesn't like people going into her room," the servant blurted out, worried. The last thing she wanted was for Maura to come home and find Aurora had taken a liking to her space—it would surely cause a scene.

Aurora caught on immediately, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "Relax. I'm not interested in hand-me-downs."

With that, she turned and walked confidently down the corridor to the far end. The room at the very end of the hall was large but poorly situated, in the path of the setting sun. Discerning people would find it too hot in summer and too cold in winter, unsuitable for a bedroom. But Aurora didn't care.

By evening, Maura returned, making a beeline for Aurora's room. Maura, impeccably dressed, flounced in with her usual flair. Her delicate pink dress, custom leather shoes, and limited-edition designer backpack made her look like a princess from a royal ball.

In her exaggerated, sugary-sweet voice, she called out, "Aurora!"

"Ever heard of knocking before entering someone else's room?" Aurora didn't let her finish. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Her lips curled into a mocking smile as she watched Maura's attempt to show off. "Look who's here, my dear stepsister."

Maura's face paled. She followed Aurora's voice and spotted her lounging by the window, her sun-kissed skin glowing in the golden evening light. Even her simple clothes couldn't hide her natural grace and beauty.

Maura's brow furrowed in frustration. How can a country bumpkin like her look this good? she thought bitterly.

As Maura's eyes scanned the sparsely furnished room, a glint of satisfaction flickered across her face. She was clearly pleased with the arrangement.

"I was just eager to meet you, so I rushed in. Next time, I'll knock, I promise," she said, flashing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. After a pause, she added, "You came back in such a hurry. We didn't get much time to prepare your room. Maybe you should pop by my room and see if you need anything. We can always send someone to buy whatever you're missing."

Maura's words dripped with condescending sweetness. She wanted Aurora to know, loud and clear, who the real princess of the Crawford family was. Even with Aurora's return, nothing in Maura's world was about to change.

Aurora, ever composed, didn't take the bait. "Simple is better," she replied, her voice steady. "Too much stuff can clutter one's mind. Makes it harder to know one's place."

The jab stung, though Maura wasn't sure if Aurora was referring to her or herself. Either way, it hit home.

"Dad's home. You might want to get yourself ready and come down for dinner," Maura said, quickly regaining her composure, a sweet smile playing on her lips as she anticipated what was to come.

"Sure," Aurora responded, cool and indifferent. She waved a hand dismissively, signaling Maura to leave.

Fuming inside, Maura narrowed her eyes. This wasn't how she'd envisioned things. As the family's favorite daughter, she'd expected Aurora to fawn over her, to scramble for her approval. But Aurora's icy demeanor and calm defiance left Maura feeling like she was trying too hard. Seemingly slamming the door a little too loudly, she stormed downstairs, her expression one of exaggerated hurt.

When Aurora finally descended the staircase, the Crawford family was already seated at the grand dining table, perfectly arranged. The crystal chandelier cast shimmering light on the polished marble floors, and their smiles seemed warm and genuine. Jason, Stacy, and Maura looked like the very picture of a harmonious family. Only Griffin Crawford was missing; he had been sent to stay with a relative for a few days.

Aurora, in her worn clothes and slippers, took her time descending the stairs. Each soft footstep echoed through the hall, disrupting the cheerful chatter that had filled the dining room moments before. The easy laughter evaporated into awkward silence as they turned to face her. Catching the flicker of discomfort on their faces, Aurora raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at her lips.

Maura was the first to break the tension, standing and walking over, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Aurora, come sit. We've been waiting for you."

She reached out, as if to take Aurora's hand in a warm, sisterly gesture, but catching sight of Aurora's clothes, she recoiled slightly, pulling her hand back as if burned.