Chapter 2

"I just wanted to help you carry your bags, and I swear it wasn't on purpose, Mildred. Shall I plant it back for you?" Tamara bent down to pick up the broken shards of the flowerpot before letting out a soft cry. "Ouch! It hurts!" Bright red beads of blood dripped from her fingertip and into the soil. "Enough, don't touch it. Tamara has apologized, Mildred. Can't you just buy another plant? "I'll pay for it. Is 100 dollars enough?" Kieran stepped in as he handed Mildred a banknote he'd just pulled from his wallet. Then, he anxiously turned to stop the bleeding. Before she could take it over, the note fluttered from his hand and landed in the soil. For a moment, it seemed to play in slow motion, and memories of her previous life crashed into her mind. The coldness in Mildred's eyes faded away and was replaced by thick pity. "Kieran, do you really think this plant… does… nothing?" she said syllable by syllable. Her voice was unused to speaking without the suffocation of the iron collar around her neck, and each word carried undeniable formidability. Kieran froze, and a flicker of displeasure crossed his eyes. "Of course. You grew up in the slums and never saw anything good. But to the Gingers, a single plant is nothing compared to peace between you sisters…" "Perfect. Since it isn't important, there's no point saving it." Mildred looked forward to the day when Kieran would beg her to grow the ambrosia yarrow again. Then, she turned to a maid. "Cut it up, separate the soil, and sort it properly for trash." "Got it, Ms. Mildred." Kieran stared after her as she dragged her suitcase up the stairs, and it took him some time to pull himself back to the present. In the records, Mildred was described as a street rat who grew up among thieves and outcasts, socially eccentric and slow-witted. But standing there just now, she'd felt… dangerous. The Gingers prided themselves on a rich lineage, and every child reaped great success. There was no telling if Mildred had great promise, too. "Susan, make some pear crumble. I'll take it to Mildred myself and talk to her." "Got it, Mr. Ginger." Tamara petulantly said, "Mildred's so lucky, while I'm just an adopted daughter of the Gingers." He took her hand and comfortingly said, "Don't say that. You're what matters most to me. She's new, and I just need time to understand her." Tamara finally giggled. "You're right, Kieran." … The maid led Mildred to the fourth floor. Ginger residence sprawled over 4000 square feet of living space, with total grounds nearing 20,000 square feet, including gardens, fountains, and all. It was a stunning real-life palace. Mildred recalled what the Ginger family was at this point in her previous life. They claimed to be one of the few standing noble families in Riverdale, but by the time it reached her dad's generation, they were on the verge of a total decline. Like a hollow shell, they were grand and polished but emptied out inside. Just like the pine tree outside her window, its leaves had withered before autumn, and its branches were bare without a single decent fruit. A fitting sight indeed. "This is your room, Ms. Mildred." The room was large with a small bedroom lounge, and an empty walk-in closet. "Mr. Alphonse's room is next door. Across the landing is Mr. Gavin's room. He rarely stays here, but no one's allowed in that room. Don't break the rules, Ms. Mildred." Even the Ginger family maid carried herself like nobility as her eyes flickered over to Mildred's faded jeans with open disdain. "Mr. and Mrs. Ginger's suite is on the third floor, though Mrs. Ginger is away abroad. Also…" "I know. Enough," Mildred said, coldly cutting off her raucous voice. The maid jumped at the chance to start lecturing her. "You grew up in the slums and have long been accustomed to acting wild. But after returning to the Ginger family, you should learn how to act in the house. The Gingers aren't a flashy, nouveau riche family. "The first rule is to watch your mouth, keep your head down, and don't wander. I'm explaining the floors and rooms for your own good…" Her words trailed off in fright under Mildred's sharp stare. "Mom and Dad's rooms are on the third floor, and Tamara's up there too. Nox and Adrian are on the second, and Kieran's legs keep him on the first floor by the study. Am I right?" "...Correct." "So I said, I know. Now, get out," Mildred snapped. When the maid, Pippa Sewell, snapped out of her shock, her face twisted with resentment. She'd worked efficiently for the Gingers for over two decades. She'd never received a single lecture for her work and even won a respectful address from the Gingers. And as a slum stray who'd just returned to the family, Mildred was already talking like she owned the place! Kieran had just arrived at the door and quietly listened in on their conversation. Then, he said, "You may leave, Pippa. I'd like to have a private word with Mildred." "Got it, Mr. Ginger." He stepped inside and studied Mildred, who'd just been brought home. Unlike Tamara, who was raised to be polished, she just wore a worn knit sweater, washed-out jeans, and a pair of old sneakers yellowing at the soles. She was thin with visible bones and a pointy chin, but her eyes shone cold like the winter sun. "Ah, a wary wolf pup, huh?" Kieran thought, pinning her down with a single glance. He was excellent at reading people. A breeze lifted a few strands of her untamed hair, and the shifting light fell across the wooden tray resting on his knees like a perfect painting. "Mildred, here's some pear crumble. Tamara had Susan make it for you just to please you. Since she was afraid that you'd be upset, she sent me here. "Here, try it." Mildred studied Kieran's deceptively gentle, innocent expression and was thrown into memories of her previous life. Back then, she'd seen through Tamara's viciousness and hollow apologies and believed Kieran was a soft peacemaker who only wanted the family to stay together. Now, she knew better. There was no way a den of cunning wolves could ever raise an innocent lamb. As the oaty crumbles coating the pears slowly melted in her mouth, she heard him go on. "Tamara's parents died saving ours. She was spoiled growing up, so she's a little delicate. But that's going to be your life too, and we're all going to treat you well. "You have a home now, Mildred. You don't have to fight anymore. We're your family, so don't feud with Tamara over a pot of flowers, alright? "Now that we've settled everything with the flowerpot, let's put the past behind us. And since Tamara made the first move and gave you a sweet treat, shouldn't you show your appreciation too?" Everything was exactly as he'd said in her previous life. The metal spoon clinked softly on the wooden tray as Mildred wiped her mouth. "Fine. I'll do it." "Good job, Mildred." A trace of a smile flashed in Kieran's eyes. Just as he predicted, this wary wolf pup could be tamed and easily manipulated with just a few honeyed words. … Before dinner, Mildred knocked on Tamara's door on the third floor. "Come in." Tamara was on the balcony, painting. The sunset cast its light on her like some fairy-tale princess and set her aglow. On the easel, her unfinished old painting of the twilight skyline was stunningly beautiful, showing her talent. "Are you here to apologize, Mildred? Did you draft it out? I hate it when people stammer. "Kieran told you, right? Play nice with me so that the Gingers will accept you, or you can crawl back to your slums and eat stale bread out of tin cans. "Don't think being biologically related makes you special because the Ginger family has rules. Stray slums will just bring shame, and they might still be debating whether you're presentable in public. "What, cat got your tongue? You're no different from that defective twin brother of yours; did you split a single brain cell in the womb?" Mildred strode toward the balcony. Under Tamara's ceaseless mockery and taunting, she picked up the half-finished canvas on the easel and slapped it right onto Tamara's face. "Ah!" As the canvas hit the floor, its loud slap was drowned by Tamara's shriek. With her face smeared in oil paint, she wailed, and the sound tore through all four floors of the house. It sounded almost like a death knell for the Ginger family's decaying nobility, or perhaps, a war horn for the new path Mildred would carve in her present life.