Zoe's POV
"Chloe!... Chloe!"
"Yes... yes, Mrs. Ross," I managed to mutter, snapping out of the fog in my mind. I'd drifted too far into that familiar corner of my imagination—my escape zone—where everything felt just right, unlike the mess I called reality.
I forced a smile. The air was already thick with tension. It was my first dinner with the Ross family since I moved in, and the awkwardness in the room clung to me like a second skin.
Mrs. Ross had made it clear: Everyone had to be at the dinner table, no exceptions.
As for me? I didn't exactly have a say in the matter. I was already the uninvited guest—the outsider who appeared out of nowhere. I felt like the elephant in every room, constantly aware of the unblinking eyes tracking my every move. If looks could kill, I'd have been six feet under the moment I stepped through the front door.
And tonight? Tonight was worse. The stares were closer, more intense. Even the steam wafting off the bowl of spaghetti in front of me carried the weight of unspoken judgment. The clinking cutlery sounded more like battle drums than casual family noise. Honestly, it felt less like a dinner and more like a silent standoff between sworn enemies.
My eyes drifted to the empty seat beside me. Whoever that spot belonged to, I was already bracing for trouble. I'd only seen him once—on the day I officially arrived. The memory was still fresh: three Ross kids staring at me with fake smiles that couldn't hide the disgust simmering underneath.
Except him.
He didn't even bother faking it. His face was stone cold, unreadable, and honestly, terrifying.
Mrs. Ross tilted her head toward me, clearly disapproving of something. "Margaret," she corrected me gently. "I've asked you to call me Margaret. No need for the formalities."
She reached across the table and placed her hand on mine. I hesitated but placed my palm on hers, and then came those carefully chosen words again:
"Zoe, I want you to feel at home here. I need you to know this is your home too, okay?"
How? I screamed silently. How am I supposed to feel at home? Why does everyone expect me to be okay when I'm clearly not?
I just wanted my old life back—our house, my school, Chloe. Everything. Now I had to switch schools too? As if being absorbed into a whole new family wasn't enough. Talk about kicking a girl when she's already down.
The squeaking of chairs snapped me out of my head. Dinner was clearly over. The chairs scraped against the floor as everyone stood. I'd barely touched my food.
I got up, intending to help clear the table, when a warm hand landed gently on my shoulder.
"Don't worry, I got it."
I blinked in surprise. One of the Ross kids had spoken to me. Seth—the second son.
"Thanks," I said, trying to sound cheerful, though my shock was louder than my words.
That felt... nice, I whispered to myself as I walked toward the kitchen.
Mrs. Ross followed me and said softly, "Chloe, you should head to bed. It's a school night, and tomorrow's your first day at the new school. Try to get some rest, okay?"
Perfect, I thought sarcastically. Just what I needed to hear.
Dragging myself toward the door on the left—my new room—I was ready to collapse into the comfort of my fluffy bed and disappear for the night. Nothing could make this day worse.
But as I pushed the door open...
He was standing by my bed.
What the hell is he doing here?!