Hazel's Redemption

YOU NEVER BELIEVE ME

Mr. Edgard was finally gone, and Ivy wasted no time moving in. Emily hovered eagerly, helping her unpack, grinning like a sister-in-law desperate to pick a favorite. She hadn’t acted this way when Hazel moved in; her glare at Hazel left no doubt—her choice of “Madam” was already made.

Hazel sat in her room, staring out the window. Her chest felt heavy.

*One month.*

Just one month until her father returned. In a month, so much could happen. Could she stop it? Her sister was cunning; she wouldn’t allow Hazel a moment of peace.

Perhaps she could retreat into her books, bury herself in medicine, and wait.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.

“Come in.”

A servant stepped inside.

“Mrs., the young master and his sister are waiting. Dinner is ready.”

Dinner. Hazel had no appetite.

“And my sister?”

“Mrs. Ivy is setting the table. She hopes you’ll join.”

Hazel’s stomach sank. Ivy’s invitations were never innocent. But she had Ethan’s tacit approval, and that made Ivy’s freedom in this house even more dangerous.

“Mrs…”

“Tell them I’m not hungry. They can eat without me.”

Emily appeared like a storm, glaring at Hazel. Ivy looked pitiful, a perfect innocent angel.

“You’re useless,” Emily snapped. “As the wife, you should be serving your brother and me. Instead, you lie here reading useless books while sister Ivy works herself to death. Don’t you feel ashamed?”

“T-That’s enough, Emily,” Ivy said, her voice soft. “She’s always been in poor health. Dad forbids her from overworking. I don’t mind helping a little.”

Of course, Ivy twisted everything. She portrayed herself as angelic and Hazel as cruel—painting Hazel’s illegitimacy as the reason she deserved blame.

“I just wanted to help. Please don’t blame my sister. She’s done her best to accept me,” Ivy said, her eyes wet but her tone rehearsed.

“Don’t be sad, sis Ivy. It’s not your fault. Though illegitimate, you and Hazel don’t seem so,” Emily said, nodding toward Hazel—unaware of Ivy’s sly smile.

Hazel’s lips tightened. *Of course. Everyone is blind to her schemes.*

“By saying this, are you implying Dad never treated you well?” Hazel began.

“What…!” Ivy gasped. Hazel’s words caught in her throat as Ethan appeared behind her. A month. If she wasn’t careful, Ivy would ensnare her completely.

“What’s happening here? I’ve been waiting,” Ethan said.

“It’s nothing. I came to invite my sister for dinner,” Ivy said.

“Why bother? The servants can do it,” Ethan replied.

“But I—” Ivy began. Hazel cut her off.

“Ethan is right. No need to inform me. The servants are capable—they’ve had three years to learn the rules.”

Hazel couldn’t beat Ivy head-on, but asserting hierarchy and household rules was enough to annoy her. Still, irritation would not undo Ivy’s schemes.

They went to the dinner table. Ivy served Ethan as if she were his wife. He didn’t object.

“Sister, why aren’t you eating? Don’t you like the meal I made for you?” Ivy asked, sweetness dripping from every word. Hazel knew the act—another trap.

“I made you a nutritious meal. You’ve become too skinny. You need to take care of yourself,” Ivy said, masking intent with concern.

“You’re considerate, but she doesn’t appreciate it,” Emily muttered.

“Maybe she has no appetite, or the food isn’t to her taste. Should I make something else?” Ivy said.

“No, this is fine,” Hazel said, refusing to give Ivy another inch.

She picked up her spoon. The soup burned her tongue and throat.

“Hazel!” Ethan exclaimed. Panic flared in his eyes.

“I’ve got this,” Ivy said, moving fast, handing Hazel a glass of water. Hazel slammed it away. Glass shattered.

“Don’t act kind! You know I don’t eat spicy food, yet you made it hot. Was this… intentional?” Hazel’s voice trembled with anger.

“What…?” Ivy stammered, taking a step back, eyes wide. Hazel’s irritation boiled.

“Exactly. Everyone in this house knows I don’t take spicy food. And as my sister—you should have known.”

“I assure you, Ethan, I was careful. I would never harm my sister,” Ivy cried, tears spilling over. Ethan’s frown melted into trust. Hazel’s heart sank.

Her anger collided with helplessness. *The spoon… of course. The spoon was tampered with.* Ivy had used the pretense of concern to turn everyone against her.

“Let me taste it,” Ethan said, sampling the soup. Nothing.

“The food is fine. Hazel, why accuse Ivy?”

“What… how…?” Hazel whispered, panic rising.

“I knew it—you’re so arrogant! Sis Ivy worked so hard, and you—” Emily’s words dripped venom.

Hazel could only watch. The spoon had done its job. Ivy had turned the table. Hazel’s truth would be dismissed; Ivy had already won.

“Should I apologize for not letting her marry you? Or for not letting her sleep with you?” Hazel scoffed at Ethan.

“You…” Ethan grabbed her hand, but her knees buckled. He caught her.

“Hazel, what’s wrong?”

“If I tell you the food affected me, would you believe me?” she asked, her voice low. Ethan’s frown deepened—he wouldn’t.

Hazel made a decision. Retreat. Take her medicine. Lie down. She would not let Ivy’s trap succeed.

“As expected. You never believe me,” Hazel muttered. Ethan’s silent hurt, uncomprehended, stabbed her in the chest.

“Ethan…”

“I have work. Go ahead and eat,” he said, leaving only Emily and Ivy.

“What a vixen, Hazel. She ruined dinner,” Emily muttered.

“What an eyesore!” Ivy whispered, almost audible—but immediately masked it with sweetness, maintaining her angelic image.