A ONE NIGHT STAND

Chapter 3- A difficult dinner. Emma

As my dad approached his room, a faint smile on his face, he said, "Emma, I brought you some food." He handed me a tray laden with my favorite sandwich, fruit, and a glass of juice.

I looked up at him, curiosity piqued, and replied, "Thank you, Dad."

I began eating, savoring the taste of the sandwich, while my dad asked, "Do you like it here?"

I responded with a lie, "Of course, I do." He sighed, his eyes filled with a mix of guilt and concern, and sat beside me on the bed.

"I know you have a lot of questions to ask me, Emma. Why I married Amelia, why I brought you here..." I interrupted him, not ready to hear his excuses.

"I would appreciate it if you don't tell me anything, Dad. I really don't want to know." I stood up, holding the tray, and added, "I think I'm okay, and I'll return the plate."

My dad's face fell, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he said, "You've gone through a lot, Emma. Just let me make it up to you." I didn't respond and left the room, feeling a mix of emotions, anger, hurt, and confusion.

Meanwhile, in Amelia's room, Brittany was filling her mother in on the details of her encounter with me.

"I saw what you did in Emma's room, Brittany. What's the meaning of that?" Amelia asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Brittany played it cool, "Mom, you have to calm down. I'm definitely on your side. Dad is a big fan of hers, and we aren't supposed to blow our cover, do you get me?"

Amelia's irritation was palpable, "I get you, but don't get too close to that...that... filthy girl. I wonder why your father is so keen on her?"

Brittany's response was calculated, "She's the forgotten illegitimate daughter, Mom. That's why he feels guilty and wants to make it up to her." Amelia's eyes narrowed, her mind working overtime to plot her next move.

As I entered the kitchen, the aroma of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, but my attention was drawn to Mary, the maid who had shown me to my room earlier. Her face was swollen, with a faint bruise visible on her left cheekbone. I felt a surge of concern and empathy.

"Are you okay, Mary?" I asked, my voice laced with worry. "What happened to your face?"

Mary forced a weak smile, her eyes avoiding mine.

"I'm fine, Miss Emma. Just a little accident. Don't worry about me." She took the tray from my hands, her fingers brushing against mine.

I hesitated, unsure if I should push the issue further. But something about Mary's demeanor told me she was hiding the truth.

"Who did this to you?" I asked, my eyes scanning the kitchen, half-expecting to see Amelia lurking in the shadows.

As if on cue, Amelia emerged from the doorway, her eyes fixed on Mary with a cold, calculating gaze.

"I did," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "And I'll do worse if she doesn't shape up."

Mary cowered, her eyes darting to Amelia and then back to me.

"Please, Miss Emma, don't trouble yourself. I'm fine, really."

I felt a surge of anger towards Amelia, but I bit my tongue, knowing that confronting her would only make things worse. Instead, I turned to Mary and said, "Thank you for taking care of me, Mary. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

Mary nodded, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Thank you, Miss Emma. You're too kind."

Amelia snorted, her voice dripping with disdain.

"Dirt, get out of here. I need to talk to...this person alone."

Mary scurried out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with Amelia. My skin crawled as Amelia approached me, her eyes fixed on me with a cold, calculating gaze.

"You have no right to talk to me like that," I said, my voice firm but shaking slightly.

Amelia smirked, her eyes glinting with malice.

"You have no right to be here, Emma. You're just a bastard child, a reminder of your father's mistake."

I felt a stinging sensation in my eyes, but I refused to let Amelia see me cry. Instead, I stood my ground, my voice firm.

"I may not have grown up with my father, but at least I have a heart, unlike some people who are devoid of emotions."

Amelia's face turned red with rage, but I didn't wait to see what she would do next. I turned on my heel and walked out of the kitchen, feeling suffocated by the toxic atmosphere. I slammed the door shut behind me and leaned against it, my heart racing.

I took a few deep breaths and reached for my phone, dialing Jessy's number. I needed to talk to someone, anyone, who could distract me from this living hell. As the phone rang, I prayed that Jessy would answer, that she would be my lifeline in this sea of chaos.

As I lay my head on my pillow, I couldn't shake off the frustration of not being able to reach Jessy. I decided to let it go, knowing I had to rest for my shift at Bridgeport Hotel the next day.

But my mind was still racing, replaying the events of the day like a broken record. I closed my eyes, willing myself to relax, and slowly, my eyelids grew heavy.

In my dream, I found myself in a beautiful environment where the air alone was soothing and refreshing. I twirled in my long, flowing gown, taking in the stunning scenery and melody. The sun shone bright, casting a warm glow over everything. I felt carefree and happy, dancing with abandon.

But my peace was short-lived. I fell, and as I struggled to get up, my stepmom and stepsister appeared, laughing maniacally. Their cackles echoed in my mind, making my skin crawl.

"How does it feel to sit on the ground? It must be great because that's where you belong," Brittany sneered, her eyes gleaming with malice.

"Your dead mom would have considered you a curse if she were alive," Amelia added, their laughter echoing in my mind like a cruel chant.

I jolted awake, my heart racing, frustrated that they had invaded my dream.

"I seriously have to see them in my dream too?" I muttered to myself, throwing off the covers. I got out of bed and began writing, my passion and escape from the toxic reality.

As I wrote, the words flowed effortlessly, pouring out my emotions onto the page. But as the hours passed, fatigue caught up with me, and I fell asleep, my pen still clutched in my hand.

Hours later, the maid's knock on the door broke the silence.

"Miss Emma, dinner is served. Your father demands your presence in the dining table."

I replied, "Thank you," already dreading the evening ahead. I knew that dinner would be a tense affair, with Amelia and Brittany waiting for an opportunity to strike. But I was determined to keep my cool, to show them that their cruelty wouldn't get the better of me.

As I descended the stairs, my heart felt heavy with apprehension, like a weight was pressing down on me. The soft glow of candles illuminated the dining room, casting a warm light on the tense faces of my family.

The air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved issues. Amelia's sugary sweet tone grated on my nerves as she spoke first, "Come sit beside me, Emma, dear," her voice dripping with fake affection.

I shot her a disgusted look, her pretentious attitude making my skin crawl. I ignored her invitation and instead took a seat beside my father, the tension between us palpable, like a tangible force field.

Amelia's face darkened, her eyes flashing with anger, but she quickly masked it with a saccharine smile, her lips curling up in a way that made my stomach turn.

"Guess you'd prefer staying with your dad," she said, her voice dripping with venom, her eyes glinting with malice. Brittany chimed in, her voice laced with fake concern.

"How's your leg, Emma?" her eyes fixed on me with a curious intensity that made me squirm.

I glanced at her, my response curt, "It's fine, thanks for asking," my voice barely above a whisper.

My father, oblivious to the tension, suggested we start eating, his voice booming through the room like a clap of thunder. The clinking of silverware against plates and the forced small talk only added to the strained atmosphere, making my skin crawl.

My father announced, "Emma, I was thinking of a family gathering, just a small get-together with some family and friends," his eyes shining with excitement, his face lit up with a warm smile.

Amelia snorted, her disdain evident, "Is that even necessary? I'm sure Emma doesn't want it. What's so special about her that you have to throw a small family gathering?" her voice laced with sarcasm, her eyes rolling in exasperation.

My father's expression turned defensive, his face reddening, "Honey, I haven't seen Emma for a long time, and she just lost her mom, so I really want to make it up to her," his voice laced with guilt, his eyes pleading for understanding.

I intervened, my voice firm, "I don't need it, Dad, and besides, I'm working tomorrow," my eyes fixed on him with a determined intensity.

Amelia sneered, "Oh, you're quite productive," her voice dripping with condescension, her eyes glinting with malice.

My father asked, "Where do you work?" his voice curious, his eyes fixed on me with a questioning intensity. I replied, "In a bar," my voice firm, my eyes fixed on him with a defiant intensity.

Amelia's eyes widened, her tone dripping with condescension, "Hmm... shouldn't have expected more from a filth like you," her voice laced with venom, her eyes glinting with malice.

My father began to lecture, "I think you should stop working there, you're my child, and it's not fit..." his voice booming through the room like a clap of thunder, his face reddening with anger.

I cut him off, my voice assertive, "Not fit for me to work in a bar? Let me remind you, Dad, I'm Emma Stone, not Emma Smith. I choose where I work, so please don't meddle in my life and don't lecture me," my voice firm, my eyes fixed on him with a determined intensity.

Amelia reprimanded, "Not a good way to speak to your father," her voice laced with condescension, her eyes glinting with malice.

I shot back, "Not a good way to interrupt me. I wasn't talking to you," my voice firm, my eyes fixed on her with a defiant intensity.

The room fell silent, the tension palpable, like a tangible force field. My father's face reddened, his voice thundering, "Emma!" his eyes flashing with anger, his face lit up with a fiery intensity.

I looked at him, my apology swift, "I'm sorry. I'll seal my mouth," my voice barely above a whisper, my eyes fixed on him with a contrite intensity.

My father's expression softened, his tone laced with disappointment, "You can do whatever you want, but don't be a disgrace to me," his voice booming through the room like a clap of thunder, his eyes fixed on me with a pleading intensity. I looked at him, surprise etched on my face, the sting of his words lingering in the air like a shadow.

Brittany giggled lightly, her eyes sparkling with amusement, and I ignored my father's words, diving into my food with a sense of relief. But the food already felt sour in my mouth, the tension in the room making it hard to swallow.

The silence that followed was oppressive, the only sound was the clinking of silverware against plates. I focused on my food, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, especially Amelia and Brittany, who seemed to be enjoying my discomfort.

The room was quiet, and i could hear the sound of heavy breathing of my family members, their eyes fixed on me with a mixture of anger, disappointment, and condescension.

I felt like an outsider, and the feeling sent a shiver down my spine. I pushed my food around my plate, my appetite gone, my mind racing with thoughts of escape, of fleeing this toxic environment and never looking back. But for now, I was stuck, trapped in this suffocating atmosphere, forced to endure the wrath of my family's disapproval.

"I would love to break the silence in this dining room," Brittany said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, as she gazed around the table at her family. The dim lighting in the room highlighted the tension in her jaw, and her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.

I lifted my gaze towards her, my eyes locking onto hers for a brief moment before I returned my attention to my meal. The clinking of silverware against plates and the forced small talk seemed to fade into the background as I focused on my food.

"What's on your mind, honey?" Amelia asked, her voice sweet and innocent. She leaned forward, her designer dress shimmering in the light, and her perfectly manicured nails drumming against the table.

"Dad, can I talk to you about something?" Brittany asked, her voice laced with excitement, her eyes shining with determination. She leaned forward, her long blonde hair cascading down her back like a golden waterfall.

"Of course, dear, what do you have to say?" Dad replied, his expression encouraging. He put down his fork and leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Brittany with a hint of curiosity.

"I want to get into the RW modeling industry," Brittany said, her eyes gleaming with ambition. "I'm tired of working under Jersburg, I want to be part of the best, the crème de la crème. I have been an outstanding model and not a disappointment to you, and I'm quite famous, but if I have a chance to be in RW modeling industry, it's a win for me and for all of us." She paused for dramatic effect, her chest heaving with excitement.

Amelia added, her voice dripping with enthusiasm, "I never thought about this, oh, Brittany, my child, you are so smart. She's right, honey, it's a better goal, and Brittany can be gracious enough to help Emma come out from her shallow work in the bar." Her eyes gleamed with malice as she gazed at me, her lips curling into a sneer.

I knew what she meant, but I chose to keep quiet, my eyes fixed on my plate. The tension in the room was palpable, and I could feel the weight of their gaze on me.

My father raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "RW modeling industry, huh? That's quite a huge goal, but it's not going to be easy, Brittany. I've never seen or heard of the owner of RW modeling industry, but rumored said he has never revealed himself and he's out of the country. I have no idea when he would be back, so it would be quite difficult to get in." He leaned forward, his eyes locked onto Brittany's, his voice laced with concern.

Brittany's face fell, her enthusiasm dampened.

"You don't know who the owner is?" she asked, her voice laced with disappointment. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly, as if she was about to say something more.

Amelia replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Likewise, you, honey." She rolled her eyes, her expression mocking.

Brittany gave her mother a stink eye, her expression furious. Her face reddened, and her eyes flashed with anger.

Her father continued, "I don't know, honey, but I would try my best. I'm a reputable person, and I would gather information about them, and if I can get you there, we are already stars, and the Smith family would be entirely respected." He smiled, his eyes gleaming with determination.

Amelia added, her eyes filled with malice, "Of course, honey, Brittany would always make you proud. Emma, you should learn from Brittany." Her voice was laced with sarcasm, and her eyes gleamed with mocking.

I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm, "I would definitely learn from her when she gets into the prestige modeling industry. I wish you luck, dear sophisticated sister."

I stood up from the table, my eyes locked onto my father's, his expression cold and concerned.

"Enjoy your dinner," I said and left, the deadly gazes of Brittany and her mother following me out of the room. The tension in the room was palpable, and I could feel the weight of their gazes on me as I walked away.

As I was out of sight, Amelia spoke first, her voice dripping with fake tears.

"Honey, does Emma hate me? I feel she doesn't like me or have anything to do with me and Brittany. I might have come out rude at first encounter, but I'm trying to make it up to her. She's your daughter, and I really want to be a mother to her since she has none." Her voice was laced with fake concern, and her eyes gleamed with malice.

Brittany added, her voice dripping with fake concern, "Mom is right, Dad, I don't think she likes me that much. She's always so distant and cold towards me, and I feel like she's trying to avoid me." Her eyes widened, and her lips pouted, as if she was trying to appear hurt and innocent.

Her father sighed and replied, "She's going through a lot, and she just changed her environment, so it might be a bit difficult for her to blend. Just take it easy with her, I would talk to her." He looked at Brittany and Amelia, his expression softening. "Let's just try to get along, okay?"

Amelia nodded, her expression sweet and innocent.

"Of course, dear. We'll try to get along."

Brittany pouted, her eyes still gleaming with malice.

"I'm trying, Dad. But it's hard when Emma is so distant and cold all the time."

Her father sighed, his expression frustrated.

"Brittany, we've talked about this before. Emma is going through a tough time, and she needs our support and understanding."

Amelia added, her voice dripping with fake concern.

"Yes, dear. We should be more understanding and supportive towards Emma." My dad sighed heavily, knowing it would be quite difficult for me, and that wasn't a lie.