Author's POV
The loud, angry voice of a woman echoed through the room, pulling Aubrey Elyse Barlowe from her sleep. Her head was pounding, her body heavy with fever, but the only thing that greeted her that morning was resentment. Aubrey, or Bre, as people called her, was twenty-three. But despite her age, she had never truly known what it felt like to be loved by the family she lived with. Truth be told, she wasn't part of them by blood.
Her real parents died in a car accident when she was just three years old. Since then, she had been raised by her aunt—if you could call it that. Her aunt, Marianna Barlowe, took her in out of obligation, not love. The Barlowes were wealthy, prestigious even, but Bre had always felt like an outsider wearing someone else's name.
She had two cousins she lived with, but she considered them siblings in title only. One of them made sure to remind her every day she didn't belong. The bedroom door swung open. Marianna stood there, arms crossed, her sharp eyes filled with disdain as she stared at Bre.
"What the hell are you still doing in bed? Go wake up your siblings," Marianna ordered coldly.
Bre struggled to sit up, steadying herself by gripping the headboard. Her vision swam, her body weak from the fever burning under her skin.
"I think I'm sick… Can't you wake them? Or ask the housekeeper?" Bre's voice was faint, cracking as she tried to stand.
"Sick?" Marianna scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You've never been sick a day in your life. Stop making excuses and wake them up. Now."
Bre sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. The truth was, she rarely got sick—something her aunt used against her. But today was different, and no one cared. Swallowing the pain, Bre forced herself onto unsteady legs and headed down the hall toward her cousin Kaesha's room.
"Kaesha… Hey, time to get up," Bre whispered, gently shaking her.
Kaesha groaned, pulling the covers over her head. "What the hell, Bre? I'm sleeping."
"Mom wants you up… She's mad."
Kaesha sat up, glaring at her. "She's mad at you, not me. You're the reason there's always drama in this house," she snapped before rolling over again, dismissing Bre completely. Bre said nothing. Kaesha was nineteen, old enough to know better—but maturity had never been one of her strengths.
Next, Bre knocked on the door of her younger cousin, Shaun. Unlike Kaesha, Shaun got up immediately, his expression soft with concern. Shaun didn't hate her, not really. But like everyone else, he was expected to act like she didn't belong. He was the only one in the family with a heart, but he was too young to defy their parents. Bre made her way downstairs for breakfast, though her body screamed for rest. She barely touched her food when Marianna's voice rang out again.
"Where's Kaesha?"
"She said she's staying in bed… And she doesn't care if you're mad," Bre replied honestly, her voice weak. Without warning, Marianna's hand connected with Bre's face, the sharp sting radiating across her cheek.
"Mom, she's sick! Look at her," Shaun blurted out, standing protectively beside Bre.
Bre pressed a hand to her face, swallowing the lump in her throat as their father, Nathan Barlowe, looked at her with cold disapproval.
"How the hell did you even catch a fever?" Nathan asked, his voice flat. Bre looked down at her plate, saying nothing.
"Buy some meds after you eat," Nathan added. Bre nodded silently. Just then, Kaesha sauntered down the stairs, arms crossed, her face twisted into a mocking smirk.
"Oh? Who's the patient this time?" she sneered, plopping down at the table.
"Bre," Shaun answered before Bre could stop him.
Kaesha's grin widened. "Once a liar, always a liar," she shot at Bre, her words sharp.
Bre met her eyes, unbothered, raising an eyebrow before focusing on her breakfast. There was no point in arguing with a brat. After eating, Bre carried her dishes to the sink, washing them as Marianna sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through her phone, giggling like a teenager texting some secret lover. A housekeeper noticed Bre's pale skin and flushed cheeks, rushing over.
"Miss Bre, let me do that. You don't look well," the woman offered, concerned.
"It's okay, I've got this," Bre assured her with a weak smile. "You should focus on your chores." The housekeeper hesitated but eventually stepped aside as Bre finished up.
"I'm heading out," Bre announced, grabbing her phone. Marianna didn't even glance up from her screen.
Bre trudged upstairs to change, rummaging through her closet until she found something simple—a gray oversized t-shirt and light-wash jeans. She had no energy for makeup today, not with her fever. Kaesha appeared at the door, leaning against the frame with a smug grin.
"Hey, loser," she called.
Bre kept looking through her clothes, ignoring her.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Kaesha repeated, louder this time.
Bre turned, her expression flat. "What?"
"Did you know Mom's setting you up for an arranged marriage?" Kaesha teased, clearly amused by the thought.
Bre frowned, confused.
"I bet the guy's rich… and ugly. You deserve him," Kaesha laughed before walking off.
Bre shook her head, brushing off her cousin's words as nonsense. She finished changing, grabbed her phone, and headed back downstairs. Nathan handed her some cash without even looking up from his laptop. Shaun approached her cautiously.
"Take care, okay? You still look sick," he whispered softly.
Bre smiled faintly and squeezed his hand, "I'll be fine."
Even though they had cars, Bre preferred to ride the community shuttle—it gave her a small sense of freedom, plus the family driver was busy taking Kaesha to the university anyway. She hopped into the front seat of the shuttle, greeted by the familiar face of the driver.
"You look good today, Bre… No makeup, natural beauty," he complimented.
"Thanks," she replied softly, handing over the fare.
"Nah, it's on me. You look like you need the boost," the driver insisted with a wink. "Get some meds, alright?"
Bre smiled weakly. "Thanks."
The shuttle dropped her off at the pharmacy. She bought paracetamol and took it immediately, washing it down with water provided in-store.
Just as she was leaving, a familiar voice called out.
"Aubrey?"
Bre turned, surprised. "Jamby?"
It was her former classmate, now a doctor working at the prestigious St. Claire Medical Center, one of the best hospitals in the city.
"It's been ages. Are you okay? You look flushed," Jamby asked, concerned.
"Just a fever," Bre admitted. "What about you? What are you doing here?"
"My cousin works here," Jamby explained.
"Ah, well… I should go. Take care," Bre smiled.
"You too. Get better soon," Jamby replied, hugging her briefly before they parted ways.
Bre decided to stop by the mall for groceries—her personal fridge in her room was nearly empty, and she had no intention of asking Marianna for help. She flagged down a cab and headed to Westfield Mall, wandering into the supermarket with a list in mind. But before she could make it far, a young boy accidentally collided with her, sending her stumbling backward.
"Hey! Are you okay? I'm so sorry," Bre quickly knelt to help the boy to his feet, concern flooding her tired face.