The Monster at My Feet novel Chapter 2

Sylvie glanced down at her outfit—a simple white t-shirt, a plain black skirt, sneakers, and a canvas backpack. Was it really that inappropriate?

With the crowd watching, Helena stepped closer, wearing a picture-perfect, magnanimous smile.

"You lack a sense of time and clearly haven't been taught proper etiquette. I don't blame you."

"Go on. Head up to your room, clean yourself up, and find something pretty to wear, alright?"

Then, lowering her voice so no one else could hear, she leaned in close. She rested a hand gently on Sylvie's shoulder, portraying the perfect image of a caring mother.

"What I really mean is, lock yourself in your room and don't come out. You're an absolute embarrassment. Look at yourself—you don't belong here."

Sylvie kept her head bowed in silence, her body trembling slightly as if utterly humiliated by the words.

Helena watched her reaction with deep satisfaction and gave her shoulder a gentle pat.

She played the role of the strict yet loving stepmother to absolute perfection.

Right at that moment, Sylvie tilted her head up to meet Helena's eyes.

Her large, luminous eyes were slightly glassy, blinking with the innocence of a cornered deer. She kept her voice at an equally discreet whisper.

"Helena, don't get so close to me with that ugly face. Do you have any idea how bad your breath reeks? You can play the aristocrat all you want, but at the end of the day, you're just a stray dog marking territory in my family's house."

Helena's face instantly drained of color!

Her eyes bulged as if she had just swallowed a fly, her cheeks flushing a violent shade of red as she refused to believe her own ears.

"What did you just say?!"

Her shrill, piercing shriek made everyone in the room jump, exchanging bewildered glances.

Sylvie stared innocently at her twisted expression, took a frightened step back, and let her eyes well up with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Helena. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

The surrounding guests returned to clinking glasses, though they had all drawn their own conclusions. Helena was clearly a ruthless stepmother, but that little country girl was a total pushover. She was bound to be chewed up and spat out by this family sooner or later.

Sylvie returned to her second-floor bedroom.

It was a converted storage closet with tiny windows. The wardrobe was stuffed with Lydia's hand-me-down dresses.

Lydia, her half-sister, was currently studying abroad on an exchange program and was expected back soon.

Sylvie hadn't even met her yet, but she was already staring at the discarded clothes Lydia no longer wanted.

The wardrobe had been prepared the very day she arrived. Helena had smiled warmly, boasting about how generous Lydia was to share her dresses with her new sister.

The young girl had seen these dresses before, idly flipping through them without much interest.

Suddenly, her fingers paused. She stared intently at the very back of the closet, the hair on her arms standing up.