In Their Shadow: The Daughter They Forgot Chapter 02

In Their Shadow: The Daughter They Forgot Chapter 02

Saturday night was the Dacres’ weekly family dinner.

The rectangular table seated twelve.

The seating never changed.

Father sat at the head.

Mother, Leander, Corwin, and Mirelle sat along both sides.

Then there was Pippin. His cage sat in a special booster seat beside Mirelle, with the opening facing the table.

Mother said it helped Pippin feel included.

Max lay at Leander’s feet on a custom dog bed.

Nimbus occupied the chair beside Corwin, complete with a cushion.

Three pets. Three assigned spots.

Me? I sat at the very end.

They wedged a folding chair into the corner for me. I could barely reach the table and had to stand whenever I wanted food.

Once, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I reached the dining room half an hour early and moved my folding chair between Mirelle and Pippin.

I was their daughter. Surely I deserved a normal seat more than a guinea pig did.

At six thirty, everyone filed in.

Father glanced at me but said nothing as he took his place at the head.

Mother sat down, noticed the chairs, and frowned.

“Tamsin, move back over there.” She pointed to the corner.

“Mother, can’t I sit here?” I asked. “That folding chair kills my back.”

“That’s Pippin’s spot,” she snapped. “Pippin is used to sitting there.”

“Can’t the cage go on the floor?”

Before Mother could answer, Mirelle cried, “Pippin will be scared! Pippin has never sat anywhere else!”

Corwin joined in. “Stop making a scene, Tamsin. It’s one dinner.”

Leander sounded annoyed. “Just move. The food’s getting cold, and Max is hungry.”

“Listen to your mother.” Father’s command ended the argument.

Five people. Five lines.

Not one of them saw a problem with giving a guinea pig a real seat while I got a folding chair.

I looked at them.

Father’s golden wolf eyes already blazed with impatience.

His stare seemed to ask why my very existence always had to waste everyone’s time.

I opened my mouth.

I wanted to say I wasn’t fighting a guinea pig for a seat.

I just wanted to sit closer. Between them.

I wanted them to treat me like family.

Countless words rose to my lips. Then I swallowed them.

Why bother when none of them would care?

“Fine.” I lowered my gaze.

I dragged the folding chair back to the corner and sat down.

My back stayed rigid through dinner. One leg of the chair was crooked, and the slightest shift threatened to dump me on the floor.

No one looked at me.

They discussed Leander’s new esports team, Corwin’s latest research, and Mirelle’s new brand deal.

“Pippin’s eating so well today,” Mother cooed, glancing toward the cage.

Leander sliced a piece of steak for Max.

Corwin held Nimbus in his lap and fed the cat salmon.

I sat on my folding chair and ate the side dishes one bite at a time.

The meat was out of reach, so I went without.

Sometimes, a werewolf’s sense of smell was a curse.

The scent of roast meat and spices drifted across the table, making my empty stomach twist.

But no one noticed.

After dinner, I started clearing the plates.

Mother headed upstairs without looking back. “Tamsin, bring up the packages. Pippin’s new cage parts came. The dog food and cat food are by the door too.”

“Okay.”

I carried the three packages upstairs. As I passed the living room, I noticed a family album on the coffee table.

Mother had just ordered it, custom-made with a gold-embossed cover.

I opened it.

The first page was Father signing an alliance treaty with another pack’s Alpha.

The second was Mother receiving Greyhaven’s medical innovation award.

The third was Leander holding up an esports world championship trophy.

The fourth was Corwin on the podium at the national Math Olympiad.

The fifth was Mirelle posing with Pippin.

And the sixth was a family portrait. Father, Mother, Leander, Corwin, and Mirelle were all there. Max sat at Leander’s feet. Nimbus curled up in Corwin’s arms. Mirelle held Pippin.

Five people and three pets.

Not me.

I calmly closed the album and set it back on the coffee table.

I put Pippin’s cage parts in his corner, poured the dog food into Max’s bin, and stocked Nimbus’s cabinet with cat food.

Then I went back to my room.

A converted storage room. No sunlight. No window. No private bathroom. Barely 100 square feet.

I took out my phone and used my savings to buy a one-way ticket to Washington State.

Three more days, and I’d be gone.