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"If people find out you're sleeping in your brother's room right after coming back, how will that look?"
"You'll ruin the family's reputation!"
Emma piled on, her voice shrill. "If anyone found out you're sleeping in your brother's room... the scandal! You'll ruin the family's reputation!"
My mother started her dramatic waterworks. "My own flesh and blood! Acting like this! I can't bear it!"
My father jabbed a finger at me, "You're supposed to be studying at your age. What are you thinking? Get up this instant!"
I pulled the comforter back over my head and tapped my phone.
The lights dimmed, and the wall projector lit up.
Security footage played, showing everything from Emma leading me in to the present moment.
I couldn't be bothered to explain, but I didn't want to take the fall, either.
My parents shot uneasy glanced at Emma.
But my father doubled down, "Your sister was trying to be hospitable! You should still know better!"
My mother sighed dramatically. "That... common upbringing. No manners, no consideration for others."
The message was clear. Truth wasn't the issue; I was.
But if they didn't like me, why did they insist on bringing me back?
Arguing required energy I didn't have.
Thankfully, Julian came back and defused the situation.
As they filed out, I heard my father say something nasty, "Remember your place. You're meant for a business marriage. Ruin your reputation, and you're worthless."
I saw Julian's profile. He looked numb, like he'd heard it all before.
Then, I was summoned for dinner.
At the table, my parents sat with Emma nestled between them, the picture of a perfect family.
Emma was cheerful and knew how to please them.
My parents would shoot me disappointed looks, then beam at Emma with pride, the comparison stark.
Emma suddenly asked, "Skylar, did you even go to school out there in the sticks?"
"Graduated already,"
I said absently.
My father frowned. "You're the same age as Emma, and she's still in high school at Brentwood. You've graduated? In what?"
"Computer science and welding,"
I answered truthfully.
He slammed his hand on the table. "A daughter of this family, learning a trade like some common laborer? That's disgraceful!"
My mother sniffed, "Emma is aiming for the Ivy League. You should spend a semester at Brentwood. Even if your grades are hopeless, we can donate a building to get you a diploma."
"But I already have a degree,"
I wanted to tell them I'd finished MIT's advanced program years ago and had a job—this was just a pit stop.
But my job is highly classified—I can't even talk about it.
Plus, explaining was exhausting. So I didn't.
My father roared and slammed the table again. "How dare you talk back! You start at Brentwood High tomorrow!"
Seriously? They're sending me back to high school?
If I remember correctly, I'd given a guest lecture at Brentwood a few years back.
I wondered what the principal would say when he saw me enrolled as a student.
Just then, the doorbell chimed.
Guests. A wealthy-looking middle-aged couple and a woman around Julian's age. She was pretty in a hollow way, pale with sunken eyes.
She looked… unwell.
I noticed Julian's expression go rigid at the sight of her.
His arranged match, no doubt.
The adults exchanged pleasantries.
The couple clearly doted on Emma.
The young woman's gaze was locked on Julian, occasionally licking her lips. It was unsettling.
Annoyed I hadn't stood up, my father frowned. "This is Skylar. She'll be taking the family name soon. She's our daughter who was taken years ago.She's still... adjusting."
He gestured for me to greet them.
"Uncle. Aunt," I said flatly.
Emma added fuel to the fire, "Skylar, this is your future sister-in-law, Isabella."
I looked at the unsettling Isabella, then at Julian's pale face. I stood up.
Julian's eyes met mine, a silent plea in them.
I walked over to him, cupped his face in my hands, and kissed him firmly on the lips.
The room froze.
I straightened up, slinging an arm around Julian's shoulder.
"Let me clarify," I announced to the stunned room, “Julian, my boyfriend."
