Lydia's POV
Just half an hour ago, my adoptive mother, Amara, came to the loft with the dress on me and looked at me with disgust as if I were a disgusting parasite, "Lydia, change into this dress, today is your birthday party. You know what to say and what not to say, don't you?"
So later I was standing in the banquet hall, facing the guests coming and going, not daring to say a word.
"Oh, dear Lydia, you are as beautiful as you were last year. If you ask me, you should really thank your adoptive parents, if it weren't for their kindness, you might not be in this world anymore, let alone wearing such a beautiful dress for your 18th birthday party."
A middle-aged man who looked somewhat familiar smiled at me and raised the glass in his hand, supposedly a friend of Dylan, my adoptive father.
"Thank you for the compliment, Lydia has brought us a lot of joy as well, and we have always raised her as our own daughter." Amara also showed a kind smile, and her somewhat fat face could not expose any trace of lying at all.
"Yes, I mean, without Lydia, our family wouldn't be as happy." My adoptive father stood by my side and took me by the shoulders to add, "We love Lydia even more than Kelly."
Their own daughter Kelly stood right beside us, smiling and echoing Amara and Dylan, "Yes, I love Lydia too and am so grateful that she was there for my parents for the two years before I was born."
The family's statement won praise from almost everyone present, who whispered about what kindness had made this couple treat me, their adopted daughter, better than their own daughter, Kelly, who was obedient and not jealous at all.
With dull eyes, I was led by my adoptive parents to greet all the people who came to the party, each one complimenting me on the clothes I was wearing and then telling me that I must give back to this kind and benevolent couple.
Kind and benevolent? Maybe. I tugged at the corners of my stiff mouth and gave a decent smile.
Before Kelly was born, my adoptive parents and I did have a pretty happy time.
However, the birth of Kelly changed everything, since when Amara and Dylan began to resent the fact that my laughter would disturb Kelly, that I was too close to Kelly and might pass germs to her, and that at two years old, I couldn't contribute anything of substance to the family.
That's when my place went from a bright and spacious room to a dark and damp attic, where I even lay on a blanket with mice who wouldn't even give me a bed. My room completely belonged to Kelly and was used by her for her dolls.
"Hey, seriously, you guys can't treat poor Kelly like that, Lydia is a child you picked up, and I think you've been good enough to her. Kelly is only a sixteen-year-old girl, she'll be devastated." A man with an elaborate beard said, looking at me with a look of disgust and reproach.
He was Kelly's mentor and warned me more than once not to try to bully Kelly, not to think that being pampered by my adoptive parents would make me better than Kelly, and that sooner or later he would get Dylan and Amara to kick me out.
Yes, in front of outsiders, I was a hateful white-eyed wolf, relying on my adoptive parents' love and bullying their own daughter.
Although the wounds which Kelly caused with her hands or tools all over my body were still painful, I could not tell anyone, even if I do, they would not believe.
Of course, I knew that. On the day of my seventh birthday party, I confided in a young boy about the misfortunes that had befallen me in this family, and then I was locked in the attic by Amara for three days without food or water.
Maybe Amara would have starved me to death if I hadn't cried and promised that I would go and explain to that little boy that it was all a lie that I had made up to get his attention.
It's not that I hadn't thought about running away from this family, but I am just going to be eighteen years old and hadn't awakened my wolf yet, so if I leave from this house, where could I go?
Perhaps I was so lost in thought that I didn't realize we had been standing in front of this old man with gray hair for a long time until my adoptive father Dylan's hand pinched me on the waist.
"Lydia, what are you thinking about? As a lady, it's not right to wander off in front of guests." Dylan's eyes were full of warning, but the smile on his face looked so kind.
In this family, whenever there were outsiders, the couple always did this, with expressions and eyes representing different emotions from their inner thoughts, so that they could continue to be the "good people" in the eyes of others.
"Yes, I'm sorry, Father." I folded my hands in front of me and blocked my waist with my arms so that Dylan wouldn't lay his hands on my waist again, it really hurt and I could already imagine what the red marks on my waist from his pinching would look like.
"Here, say hello to Uncle Gavin." Dylan stretched out his palm and pointed to the old man with white hair in a respectful tone.
I looked at his hand, "Uncle Gavin" was smiling at me, while his gaze embodied a lot of things I did not understand. My intuition told me that it was not the affection that an elder should show to a junior. Moreover, his age was not at all like "uncle", I thought I'd better call him "grandpa".
"Dylan, you're scaring Lydia. There's no need to be so strict with a pretty little girl." Gavin was addressing Dylan, but his gaze was still locked on me, making me feel a little weird and uncomfortable all over.
"You're right Gavin," Dylan turned to look at me, "Lydia, why don't you go and find Amara, she seems to have something to tell you."