Chapter 53: Jealous and Afraid
Most of the clothes Kyla couldn’t use anymore, she just donated without a second thought. Out-of-season, last year’s stuff—gone.
Tilda, on the other hand, was wearing jeans that had been washed so many times the blue had started to fade, but the fabric still looked tough and high quality. Her sneakers were just simple white shoes, clean, neat, maybe worth a couple hundred bucks at most. And her trench coat wasn’t some fancy designer brand either. The contrast was crazy. The “real” Jenson daughter versus the “fake.”
Based on clothes alone, Kyla crushed Tilda completely. If you didn’t know better, you’d think Tilda was the one they had picked up off the street. Kyla looked every inch the true Jenson daughter. The favoritism was too sharp to miss.
The only thing Tilda had over Kyla was her face. Tilda’s beauty was too perfect, as if God Himself had drawn her features carefully, piece by piece. She had inherited the very best of Russell and Blair, even outshining her seven brothers. Her looks were more refined, more stunning, and more unforgettable. That was why Kyla always froze up whenever Tilda walked in. Even if Tilda hated her own face now, she couldn’t erase the fact that whenever people saw her, they saw Russell and Blair’s reflection.
And on top of that, she had presence. After cutting ties with fake family bonds and standing tall as herself, Tilda had become bold, fearless, sharp as steel, and confident as fire. She wasn’t that strange, quiet, forgotten girl people never dared to get close to. Kyla, though, she was the type whose tears sat right under her skin. One poke and she’d cry. She wasn’t as tall as Tilda and didn’t have even half her aura. She was more the fragile-princess type—gentle, trembling, the kind you had to handle carefully. She was the kind of girl who made men’s protective instincts flare up and made them want to pamper her, shield her, and give her the world.
She and Tilda couldn’t have been more different. The people who liked Kyla’s soft sweetness would never be able to handle Tilda’s fire. And the ones pulled in by her sharp, magnetic presence would never waste a glance on Kyla’s glass-doll act.
Kyla spoke first. Tilda acted like she didn’t hear, not even sparing her a look. Una, with her hand looped through Tilda’s arm, copied her and ignored Kyla too.
The truth was, Una’s first impression of Kyla hadn’t been bad. When she learned Tilda was the Jensons' long-lost daughter, missing 19 years before finally being found, Una had taken notice of the family. Kyla, a freshman in Orica’s fine arts program, had made waves the moment she showed up. The cute and spoiled adopted Jenson princess—everyone wanted to be her friend.
Una had noticed her too and had thought, "Even if Tilda goes back to the Jensons, this adopted daughter will probably be kind and sincere. She doesn’t look like she’ll play petty games."
But then came the Porsche dealership incident. Kyla’s sweet little act—her honeyed words hiding claws. On the surface, she looked flawless, but every sentence had been designed to fuel Howard’s anger while stepping all over Tilda. She said it like she cared, urging Tilda to hurry back to the family, but every word had been a backhanded insult. Then she went so far as to accuse Tilda of stealing, with zero proof, humiliating her in public. That burned through every bit of Una’s goodwill. If Una had proof, she would’ve torn off Kyla’s fake mask right then and there.
The Jensons themselves had to be blind, calling themselves sharp and sophisticated, yet growing up with Kyla all these years and never realizing she was acting. That was how good Kyla’s performance was, and how willing the Jensons were to ignore it. Double standards at their finest.
Everyone watching the cafeteria scene couldn’t help but settle in like they were watching a show. The true Jenson daughter versus the fake. What could be juicier? And Tilda’s response was clear—she treated Kyla like air, as if she wasn’t even there. She didn’t even bother to put on a polite face in public.
“Tilda… I know you hate me," Kyla said. "But I have something to say. Please, I’m begging you, at least look at me. If I did something wrong, you can tell me straight, hit me, or yell at me. But please, Tilda, don’t just ignore me. It makes me so scared, so miserable.”
Kyla’s voice shook, weak and helpless, like a puppy about to be thrown out of the house. The longer she spoke, the more her eyes filled with tears, turning red and swollen, painful to look at. Any second now the tears would spill, rolling down her cheeks like pearls. The sight bought the crowd’s sympathy hard.
“No matter what, the Jensons raised Kyla. Tilda just got back, and she’s already trying to kick Kyla out? That’s too cruel. Even a pet would earn affection after all these years. Kyla grew up with the Jensons—Tilda must be jealous and afraid of her."
"That's why Tilda’s just petty. She can’t stand the adopted daughter. She probably thinks that just because she has their blood, she can push Kyla aside and throw her out!”