Appraising Merchandise（Lila's POV）

The moment the call connected, before I could even raise the phone to my ear, Samantha's voice came floating out of the speaker, laced with laughter.

"Lila, darling, it's me. Where are you? Did you go back to Adrian's place with him?"

Her voice was sickeningly sweet, like syrup too thick to dissolve, yet every syllable dripped with mockery.

I kept my tone even. "He still had business to attend to, and I have an early meeting tomorrow, so I left first."

Two seconds of silence stretched out on the other end, and I could almost picture Samantha's expression—that meticulously maintained face of hers undoubtedly wearing her signature smile.

"I see," she drawled, dragging out the vowels. "I thought you two would spend the night together. After all, I heard you were quite affectionate at the banquet, like you'd been dating for ages."

She emphasized the words "dating for ages," a clear warning.

I gripped the phone tighter, my fingertips turning white from the pressure. Those words—"dating for ages"—coming from her mouth felt like a slap across the face. I knew she didn't believe for a second that I could actually be with the renowned Adrian. After all, she knew my situation intimately; otherwise, she wouldn't have given me her invitation to this high-society event instead of attending herself.

"Samantha," I drew in a breath and let out a laugh, "did you call just to hear me gush about my relationship? Adrian asked me to dinner the day after tomorrow—should I call you then and let him say a few words to you himself?"

The moment those words left my mouth, my heart hammered so violently I thought it might leap out of my throat, and sweat soaked through the inner layer of my blouse. But I was betting she wouldn't dare take me up on that offer, because she knew as well as I did that Adrian Cyrus Lowell wasn't someone you could just casually chat with on the phone.

Sure enough, Samantha paused, and the artificial sweetness in her tone faded slightly. "I'm just concerned about you, that's all. It's quite shocking that you're suddenly with your ex-boyfriend's uncle."

Then Samantha shifted gears, her voice taking on a gleeful edge. "By the way, Dad wants you to come home tomorrow. He says there are some things he'd like to discuss with you."

She hung up immediately after that, not even giving me a chance to refuse.

Home. That so-called "home" I hadn't set foot in for over half a year.

In that so-called home, I'd never eaten my fill as a child, which led to binge eating later once I started earning my own money—even as my weight climbed higher and higher, I couldn't break the habit.

I rotated my wrist, and the one my father had broken with a wooden rod a month ago seemed to ache again. I was rather curious to see if he'd dare lay a hand on me again.

The next afternoon, I stood at the door of the townhouse and looked down at myself—my light makeup making me look like a condemned prisoner who'd tidied up her appearance one last time before execution.

Fooling Samantha was relatively simple, but facing my father, who'd clawed his way to the top in the business world, left me feeling uncertain.

When I pushed through the door, the living room was filled with the aroma of coffee and butter cookies, and the warm yellow lighting cast everything in a soft, comfortable glow.

Samantha was curled up on the sofa with a face mask on, scrolling through her phone, while my stepmother sat beside her talking to the housekeeper. Hearing the sound, my stepmother looked up, her gaze sliding from my face down to my body, and she spoke first with a smile. "Our little socialite is home?"

Samantha rolled her eyes, her tone thick with jealousy. "She's so fat she'd have to watch out for being dragged to a slaughterhouse walking down the street. There's no way she could land someone from the Lowell family. She's definitely lying and just got lucky not being caught."

I marveled inwardly—her guess was dead-on—but there was absolutely no way I'd admit it.

Ignoring her, I walked straight toward my father, who sat at the head of the dining table with a copy of the Wall Street Journal spread before him and a steaming cup of coffee at his elbow.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up with a frown, gave me a once-over with a slight curl of his lip as he assessed my figure, then jerked his chin toward the chair beside him like he was bestowing a favor. "Sit."

Even at my age now, seeing him frown still triggered an involuntary flash of fear, as if I'd been transported back to elementary school when he'd block the doorway with a stick in his hand.

"You'd better be careful not to break the chair," Samantha said as she followed, still wearing her face mask. She never missed an opportunity to mock me.

She pulled out the chair next to mine and sat down with exaggerated force, the chair legs scraping across the floor with an ear-piercing screech, as if she were taking out her frustration on the furniture—clearly the current rumors had put her in a foul mood.

My father took a sip of tea, and the porcelain made a crisp clink as he set the cup down. He looked at me without any pleasantries or preamble, getting straight to the point. "Are you really with Adrian Cyrus Lowell?"

My chest tightened. This was exactly why he'd called me back.

"Yes."

"Oh? That is surprising. So after all these years of being single, it turns out he has a preference for the obese?" My father threw his head back with laughter and shook his head, as if he could already picture the ridiculous scene of Adrian Cyrus Lowell and me standing together.

Again. Always this. Ever since puberty when I'd become a plus-size girl, he'd looked at me with the same gaze you'd give a circus animal, as if I were some kind of freak.

"Is he serious about you?" my father asked, his fingers tapping lightly on the tabletop twice.

I raised my head to meet his eyes—those eyes that bore some resemblance to mine held no warmth, only the calculating gleam of someone appraising merchandise.

I knew what he was thinking. He didn't believe Adrian Cyrus Lowell could actually be interested in me. After all, in his eyes I was nothing but an obese monstrosity.

"Dad," I said, my voice steadier than it had been last night when I'd dealt with Samantha, "he's serious."

My father's expression gave nothing away about whether he believed me or not. "In that case, bring him to the corporate charity gala next Friday."

The blood rushed to my head with a roar. That was impossible!

"He just took over an acquisition deal, so he might not be able to—"

"Then have him reschedule it." My father cut me off, his tone flat but leaving no room for negotiation.

What? I genuinely wondered if my father had been kicked in the head by a donkey. Even if I really were dating Adrian, a workaholic like him would never abandon his career for a girlfriend.

"Don't disappoint me. This is the most valuable you've ever been in your entire life. The only other time you've been useful was when you finished all your food." He twisted the ring on his finger—his old signal from before he'd beat me, when the next second he'd tell Samantha to fetch the whip.

Now, it was clearly a threat.

My nails dug into my palms, dull pain shooting from my fingertips along my nerves all the way to the crown of my head.

"Your stepmother is currently negotiating a project with Lowe Corporation's PR department. If you have him put in a word, everything becomes much simpler."

So that's what this was about.

Beside me, Samantha suddenly laughed, squinting at me with disdain. "Dad, don't make things difficult for Lila. Mr. Lowell is a man of importance," she said, raising her hand to fan the air in front of her nose as if she'd caught a whiff of something foul. "He doesn't have time to babysit a pig."

"Besides, with Lila's current figure," she tilted her head, her gaze sliding from my neck down to my waistline, "it won't be easy finding an evening gown, will it? I had a pink dress custom-made last week, but I lost two pounds and now it's a bit loose. Want me to have it altered for you? You'd look just like a sausage link in a butcher shop window—ha ha ha ha!"

I clenched my fists so tightly I wanted to stand up and punch her right in that laughing face. But no—I had to hold back. For the sake of my revenge plan later, I absolutely had to hold back!