I walked into the dining room the next morning with a made-up mind. It was time to start challenging my step-family's bullshit.
Everyone was already seated around the table, having breakfast and sharing gossip as usual.
“Kitchen,” Gianna mumbled, without looking up.
I smirked and, without anyone's permission, pulled out the empty chair at the end of the table, the one opposite Gianna, and sat down.
The clinking of forks stopped. Four pairs of eyes locked onto me. But one gaze in particular was stronger, my stepmom's.
And there was also one person who did not stare. It was Avery. She was sitting directly to my left, with her head low, her gaze on her plate.
“What do you think you’re doing, sitting at the dinner table with us?” Gianna recovered from the shock first, her eyes glaring at
