Chapter 2 Coming to Take Her Home

Sophia's eyes flashed with venom, but she slipped right back into her wounded-doe act, eyes reddening on cue. "Sis, I know you hate me, but you can't force feelings... Ethan loves me. There's nothing I can do about it..."

The tears started falling, her voice cracking beautifully. "If you're really angry, yell at me. Hit me, even. I won't fight back..."

Grace exploded. She pulled Sophia into her arms and whirled on Eleanor. "You bitch! Sophia kindly invites you and you dare bully her? Get out! Get as far away as possible!"

The neighbors chimed in on cue.

"How can she be like that? Someone invites her to a party and she threatens them?"

"Sophia's such a sweet child. Getting bullied and still speaking up for her..."

Eleanor listened without so much as blinking. She bent down, picked up the torn plastic bag, and walked away without looking back.

Grace's voice chased her down the driveway. "Don't come back once you leave! The Brown family doesn't need an ungrateful wretch like you!"

Eleanor didn't turn around. Her stride never faltered.

She reached the villa's main gate and was pulling out her phone to call a cab when a deep roar approached from the distance.

A motorcycle stopped in front of her.

Matte black with sharp, clean lines, gleaming with a cold metallic sheen in the sunlight.

The rider had flashy bleached hair, a loose jacket covered in rips and graffiti, and mud-caked Doc Martens. The whole look screamed delinquent fresh off the streets.

He pulled off his sunglasses, revealing sharp, striking features and a roguish glint in his eyes. His lips curved as he whistled at her.

"You're Eleanor, right?"

She frowned. She didn't know this man. She stepped back.

He swung off the bike with a cocky grin. "I'm your youngest uncle. Leo Mitchell. Grandma sent me to bring you home."

He studied her face. This niece really did look exactly like his eldest brother, especially the eyes. No one would doubt she was a Mitchell.

Uncle?

Eleanor paused. Her gaze drifted past him to the motorcycle, and something shifted in her expression.

If she wasn't mistaken, that was a limited-production model—each one handcrafted, more expensive than a Rolls-Royce Phantom.

And his clothes. They looked like beggar's rags, but they were actually from a haute couture brand's latest runway show. Hand-embroidered hidden patterns on the cuffs. Limited to three pieces worldwide.

The sunglasses—custom-made. Platinum and diamonds on the temples.

Only the ultra-wealthy could get their hands on any of this.

Wasn't she told her biological parents were broke? On government assistance? A disabled brother at home and drowning in debt?

So what exactly was the deal with this uncle?

Leo caught her staring and scratched his head, looking almost sheepish. "Is my outfit too low-key? Grandma insisted I keep it understated. Didn't want to scare you."

Eleanor was speechless.

This was low-key?

"Hop on. We'll talk when we get home. Grandma's waiting—she got up at dawn to cook for you herself."

He unhooked the helmet from the handlebar and nodded toward the back seat.

Eleanor took the helmet. Before she could ask anything, footsteps sounded behind her.

Sophia, Grace, and Jack emerged together, drawn by the commotion and clearly ready for a show.

Grace's eyes swept over Leo. The ripped clothes. The bleached hair. The muddy boots.

Her lip curled.

"This must be that girl's relative. Dressed like a beggar, riding some beat-up bike." She laughed. "Just like we heard—dirt poor."

Jack said nothing, but the disgust in his eyes was impossible to miss.

Sophia's lips twitched upward. She arranged a look of concern and walked forward. "Sis, is this... your family?"

She gave Leo a once-over. Impressed by his looks, maybe, but her gaze lingered on the "ripped clothes" with obvious pity.

"Maybe you should keep that ten thousand dollars. Once you leave, life won't be easy..."

Grace yanked her daughter back. "Sophia, stop being so kind. She's been dying to leave, hasn't she? Living with these poor relatives—she deserves it."

Leo raised an eyebrow. He glanced at Eleanor. "And these people are?"

Eleanor didn't spare them a look. "Nobody important."

Leo nodded, reading her perfectly. He looked Grace and the others up and down with a lazy half-smile. "These nobodies sure are nosy. With a mouth that foul, did you eat shit for breakfast?"

"What did you say?!" Grace's face went dark.

Leo ignored her. He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to Eleanor. "Almost forgot—Grandma told me to give you this. Pocket money. Said not to shortchange yourself."

Grace glanced at the card. An ordinary debit card. She burst out laughing. "A crappy card and he has the nerve to show it off. How much could be on there? A thousand? Two?"

Leo smiled without a word, looking at Grace the way you'd look at someone too stupid to bother correcting.

He swung onto the motorcycle and fired the engine. A deep, rich rumble filled the street.

Grace kept going. "Riding a beat-up bike and making all that racket—afraid people won't know he's poor."

Eleanor put on the helmet and climbed on behind him.

Leo glanced back with a grin. "Hold on tight. I'm taking you home."

The motorcycle roared and shot forward.

Grace spat after them. "What trash!"

Sophia watched the bike disappear, satisfaction pooling in her eyes.

Mom and Dad were right. Eleanor's real family was dirt poor. Good. She wanted to see how a girl from the gutter could possibly compete with her.

She linked her arm through Grace's, smiling sweetly. "Mom, don't be angry. Let's go inside."

Jack watched the direction the motorcycle had vanished, frowning slightly. An inexplicable unease stirred in his gut.

He felt like he'd seen that bike somewhere before.

But he shook it off.

Just a beat-up motorcycle. How much could it be worth?