Signed away by my step father

CHAPTER 2

The voice cut through the heavy air like a blade.

I turned my head as much as Selene’s grip would allow. Walking up the steps, her uniform jacket unbuttoned and her posture completely unbothered, was Daisy.

Daisy, who had lived across the street from me since we were six. Daisy, who knew exactly how many times I’d slept on her bedroom floor to escape my house. Daisy, who wasn't afraid of anyone.

Selene dropped her hand from my hair, adjusting her blazer with an annoyed flick of her wrist. "This doesn't concern you, Daisy. Go back to the track field."

"Everything that involves you acting like a pathetic parasite concerns me," Daisy said, stepping right between us. She was half an inch taller than Selene, and she used every bit of it, leaning in until they were nearly nose-to-nose. "Take your little backup dancers and move inside before I tell the principal exactly who stole the chemistry midterm keys last week. I still have the text, Selene. Want to guess how fast I can hit send?"

Selene’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. Her mouth opened to snap back, but the absolute certainty in Daisy’s eyes made her hesitate. For a second, the power dynamic shifted, the predator suddenly realizing she was cornered.

"Whatever," Selene muttered, spinning on her heel and shoving the heavy glass doors open. "She's not worth the trouble anyway." Her group scrambled after her, leaving the stairs suddenly, beautifully empty.

Daisy didn't watch them go. The second the doors clicked shut, she turned to me, her tough exterior instantly melting away. Her hands came up to grasp my shoulders, her eyes searching my face with fierce, protective urgency.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly. "Did she hurt you?"

Looking into Daisy's eyes, the cold, suffocating weight that had been pressing on my chest since 6:00 AM finally began to lift. For the first time all morning, I could actually breathe.

"I'm okay," I whispered, and for the first time today, it wasn't a lie

Daisy’s hands stayed warm on my shoulders for a long beat, anchor points holding me down while the morning bell finally rang, sending the last few stragglers rushing through the double doors.

"Come on," Daisy said, looping her arm tightly through mine and steering me toward the hallway. "Before Selene finds a teacher to lie to."

As we walked toward our lockers, the suffocating terror of the morning finally began to dissipate, replaced by the one thing that always managed to soothe my frayed nerves: Daisy's voice. She knew exactly how to distract me. She didn’t press me about the bruises or force me to talk about Helen. Instead, she asked the one question she knew would make my eyes light up.

"So, I was watching this food channel last night," Daisy started, her tone instantly turning bright and animated as we navigated the crowded hallway. "They did this breakdown of a traditional French reduction sauce. Bourguignon, right? They talked about searing the beef to get that deeply caramelized crust—what did you call it the other day?"

"The Maillard reaction," I answered, a genuine smile finally breaking across my face. The sheer mention of culinary mechanics made me forget about Selene entirely. "It’s when the amino acids and reducing sugars recombine under heat. It changes the molecular structure and creates hundreds of flavor compounds."

"Yes! That!" Daisy grinned, bumping her shoulder against mine. "The guy on TV tried to shortcut it by adding tomato paste too early, and I literally screamed at the screen because I remembered you telling me it bitterizes the fond if it burns."

"It does," I said, my voice gaining a rare confidence as we reached our lockers. "You have to deglaze the pan with a rich red wine first, scraping up all those beautiful, caramelized bits from the bottom. Only then do you introduce the aromatics and let them simmer down on low heat. If I had the right kitchen, I’d try infusing a hint of fresh rosemary and smoked juniper berries into the braise. It cuts through the heavy fat and gives it this earthy, rustic depth."

"Stop, you’re making me starve and we haven’t even hit the first period," Daisy laughed, leaning against the metal locker next to mine. "You really have an encyclopedic brain for this stuff, Syl. You haven't even been allowed to touch a stove at that restaurant, and you already talk like a Michelin-star chef. You just read a recipe once and it stays locked in your head forever."

"It's the only thing that keeps me sane," I whispered, stacking my textbooks. It was true. I wasn't allowed to cook at home, and at my family's restaurant, my stepfather kept me strictly restricted to handling the cash register and taking orders. He claimed I had zero cooking skills and would only ruin the inventory. But in secret, I devoured every cookbook I could find, memorizing flavor profiles, baking ratios, and spice combinations like they were sacred texts. I dreamed of a day when I could stand over a flame and actually bring those recipes to life.

"Well, one day you're going to run the best place in the city," Daisy said firmly, her eyes full of absolute belief. "And I'm going to eat there for free every single day."

The warning bell echoed through the corridor, signaling that we had less than a minute to get to class. Daisy gave my arm one last reassuring squeeze before parting ways toward the biology lab.

For the rest of the school day, I managed to function on autopilot, letting the hours blur together. I kept a low profile, avoiding Selene in the lunchroom and focusing entirely on taking notes. But underneath the academic distraction, a quiet, aching loneliness began to settle deep in my chest.

Today was October 14th.

It was my birthday.

I didn't expect a celebration, banners, or presents. But as the final bell rang at 3:00 PM and students began chattering about their after-school plans, a small, foolish part of me had hoped for a simple 'happy birthday' from my family. A single text from my mother. Anything to show that my existence mattered to them, even just for a day.

Instead, when I walked through the front door of my house an hour later, with the way the hair in my skin

stood up, I could tell that he's around.