I’m The Spoiled Princess With Three Dads Chapter 02

I’m The Spoiled Princess With Three Dads Chapter 02

The next Saturday, Big Dad picked me up for the weekend at his place.

I used to charge through the front door, race to the top of the slide, yell “Big Dad, catch me!” and whoosh straight into his arms.

Not today. I took off my shoes quietly, hung my backpack on its little hook like I was supposed to. Jonathan watched me, his brow furrowed the whole time.

“Lily, what do you want to eat?”

“Anything’s fine.”

“Want to go to the amusement park?”

“No.”

“Shoulder ride?” I used to love riding on his neck.

“No.”

Jonathan fell silent.

Then the doorbell rang. His assistant Paige walked in with a little girl behind her. “Mr. Hart, this is Mrs. Warren’s daughter, Sophie. She’ll be staying with us for a couple of days.”

I looked up. The girl was half a head taller than me—maybe seven or eight. She wore a pale blue dress, two neat braids, straight bangs, big watery eyes.

When she smiled, two little dimples appeared on her cheeks. She looked like a princess from my storybooks.

“Hello, Mr. Hart.” Her voice was soft and sweet as a kitten’s. She gave a little bow, then trotted over to stand in front of me.

“Hi there, sweetie. I’m Sophie. Do you want to play with me today?” She tilted her head with the sweetest smile.

Every instinct in me wanted to say “no.” But the text said the foster daughter was well-behaved.

Was this her? Was her name Sophie? My heart thumped. I looked up at Big Dad.

Jonathan nodded and told the housekeeper to show her to the guest room.

As Sophie passed me, she reached out and touched my crooked ponytail. “Did you do your own hair, sweetie?”

“…Yeah.”

“So cute.” Her eyes crinkled. “Let me fix it up for you, okay?”

Before I could answer, she took my hand and led me to the couch.

Her hands were soft and cool. She pulled hair ties from her pocket and worked with practiced ease. In no time, my head was topped with a round, neat little bun.

The housekeeper gasped as she walked by, “My goodness, Sophie, you’re so clever with your hands!”

“I braid my mommy’s hair all the time,” Sophie said, smiling shyly.

Jonathan peered out from his study. His gaze landed on my neat little bun and lingered for a second. I couldn’t read his expression, but something in my chest sank.

At lunch, the housekeeper made my favorite—shrimp with scrambled eggs. I scooped up a big bite and was about to put it in my mouth when Sophie spoke.

“Lily.” Her voice was soft.

“Yeah?”

“You have to take the little black vein out of the shrimp first. My mommy says it’s not good for you if you don’t.”

She carefully pulled shrimp from her own bowl, deveined each one, and put them back.

Jonathan looked up. “…Is that right?”

“Yes. That’s what Mommy says.”

The housekeeper went pale. She reached for my bowl, “Lily, let me make you a fresh batch—”

“No, it’s fine,” I muttered. I wasn’t hungry anymore.

I set my spoon down and stared at my bowl. I never knew shrimp had black veins. The housekeeper never told me. Doc Dad never told me.

How did Sophie know?

Was it because she was the kind of kid who “brought tea and rubbed shoulders,” so she knew everything?

I hid my small hands under the table and clenched them into fists.

That afternoon, Sophie volunteered to give Big Dad a shoulder rub. She stood on tiptoe, pressing her little hands into Jonathan’s shoulders methodically.

He leaned back on the couch without moving.

I stood at the doorway of my playroom, watching from a distance. The text scrolled in front of my eyes.

[The foster daughter is so sweet—she rubs Jonathan’s shoulders.]

My eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall. I turned and ran back into the playroom, slamming the door shut.

I hugged the giant rabbit plushie—bigger than me—and crouched under the slide.

“Bunny,” I mumbled into its belly, “am I really going to be replaced?”