Stella's POV
"Adam," I said, perching on the edge of his desk, "my grandmother invited me to her early birthday celebration tomorrow. She asked if you could come too."
His fingers paused on the keyboard, his expression unreadable. "I have plans tomorrow."
I wasn't surprised, but a small part of me had hoped he would agree. "She specifically mentioned wanting to see you."
"Next time," he answered, already returning to his work.
"That's fine," I said, trying to hide my disappointment. "I'll just go for a quick visit. I don't plan to stay long."
Adam finally looked up, his green eyes studying my face. "Be careful at the Winston house," he warned, his voice low. "Don't let them take advantage of you."
Despite everything, the corners of my mouth turned up. "I'm just going to see Grandma. I don't plan on engaging with the others any more than necessary."
Adam nodded, satisfied with my answer, and I left him to his work, wondering what exactly awaited me at the Winston house.
The next afternoon, I stood at the doorstep of the Winston family home, a small gift bag in hand. Joseph had helped me select a beautiful cashmere scarf for Grandma, and as I rang the doorbell, I secretly hoped I could deliver it, wish her happy birthday, and make a quick exit.
John opened the door, his usually stern expression replaced by something almost resembling warmth.
"Stella!" he greeted, stepping aside to let me in. "It's good to see you. Come in, Mother has been looking forward to your visit."
I entered cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The house looked different somehow—cleaner, more welcoming. Fresh flowers adorned the entryway table, and the lingering scent of baking suggested someone had actually used the kitchen for its intended purpose.
Anna appeared from the living room, a polite smile fixed on her face. "Stella, thank you for coming. Your grandmother will be so pleased."
"I brought a small gift," I said, holding up the bag.
"How thoughtful," Anna replied, her voice lacking its usual edge. "John, why don't you take Stella to the dining room? The cake is all set up."
A cake? An actual birthday cake? The Winston family I knew didn't do birthday celebrations. My birthdays had always been acknowledged with a perfunctory card. This display of familial warmth was so incongruous with my experience that I felt like I'd stepped into an alternate universe.
John led me to the dining room, where Grandma sat at the head of the table, looking healthier than I'd seen her in years. Her thin gray hair had been styled, and she wore a nice blouse instead of her usual faded housedress.
"Stella!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up. "You came!"
"Happy early birthday, Grandma," I said, approaching to give her the gift.
"So formal!" she gently chided.
"Mother, look at this beautiful cake John and I got for you," Anna said, gesturing to an elaborate two-tier creation that must have cost a small fortune.
"It's lovely," Grandma smiled.
I stood there, feeling increasingly disoriented by this picture-perfect family scene. Where's Lucy? I wondered, half-expecting her to appear and shatter the strange illusion.
"Shall we sing?" John suggested, dimming the lights slightly.
And so I found myself singing "Happy Birthday" to Grandma, alongside the very people who had made my childhood a study in quiet neglect. Their voices rose and fell in practiced harmony, as though they'd been celebrating her this way for years.
When the song ended, Grandma looked at the glowing candles, then at me.
"Aren't you going to make a wish?" I asked.
A strange expression crossed her face—something between calculation and affection. "No need for that. Stella, come with me. I have something I'd like to discuss with you."
Grandma's room had been moved from the cramped space at the top of the house to a comfortable first-floor bedroom.
"Sit, dear," she patted the edge of her bed. "It's been too long since we had a proper talk."
I sat cautiously, wondering where this was going. "The house looks different," I observed. "Your new room is nice."
"Yes," she smiled, patting my hand. "John thought it would be easier for me to be on the ground floor. My knees aren't what they used to be."
John thought? Since when does John concern himself with her comfort?
"I noticed Adam didn't come with you today," Grandma continued, her tone carefully neutral. "Is he... does he not care for our family?"
"He had other plans," I explained quickly.
She nodded, though she hadn't actually opened it. "Stella, there's something I need to ask you. It's actually my birthday wish."
Here it comes, I thought, bracing myself.
"Lucy is having some trouble at school," Grandma began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Something about her grades. The university is being very harsh with her. I thought, since you have so many connections there, perhaps you could put in a good word for her?"
So that's what this is about. The cake, the warm welcome, the sudden interest in my husband—it all made sense now.
"What kind of trouble is she in?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral despite the sinking feeling in my stomach.
Grandma waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, I don't know the details. Something about wanting her to leave the university. She's just a child, Stella. How can she leave school?"
Lucy was twenty years old—hardly a child—but I kept that observation to myself.
"Let me look into it," I said carefully. "I'd need to understand what happened before I could help."
Relief washed over Grandma's face. "Oh, thank you, Stella! I knew I could count on you. You've always been such a good girl."
I pulled out my phone and opened the university forum, quickly finding what I needed. Though the original post had been removed—likely due to Lucy's PR team—the comments and screenshots remained in multiple threads. The evidence was damning: plagiarism, bribes, failing grades, and questionable admission practices.
I also sent a quick text to Henry, who confirmed the situation was serious and administrative action was already underway.
"Grandma," I said finally, setting down my phone, "I'm afraid this is quite serious. Lucy has violated multiple university policies. As a former student, I don't have the influence to change established disciplinary procedures."
Grandma's expression fell, but before she could respond, the bedroom door burst open.
"You haven't even tried!" Lucy stood in the doorway, her face contorted with anger. "You just don't want to help me! I bet you're the one who posted all that stuff about me online! You've always been jealous of me!"
I stared at her in disbelief. "You've been here the whole time? Why didn't you come out when we were celebrating your grandmother's birthday?"
Lucy dismissed my question with a scoff. "That doesn't matter! What matters is you fixing this problem you created!"
"I didn't post anything about you," I replied calmly, though my heart was racing. "And these aren't baseless accusations, Lucy. There's evidence of plagiarism and bribery."
"Stella," Grandma interrupted, her voice suddenly firm as she grasped my hand tightly. "Please help Lucy. Do it for me. This is all I want for my birthday—to see my granddaughters supporting each other. You wouldn't disappoint an old woman on her birthday, would you?"
Granddaughters? Since when does she consider us equals?
"If Lucy gets expelled, people will talk," Grandma continued, her voice taking on a pleading quality. "It would be such a scandal. You wouldn't want that for our family, would you? After everything we've done for you?"
Her words hit like a physical blow. After everything we've done for you. As if raising me had been some great charity rather than their legal obligation after my parents died.
I looked between them—Lucy's smug, expectant face and Grandma's manipulative plea—and felt something inside me crack.
This whole day—the birthday celebration, the warm welcome, the sudden interest in my life—it had all been a setup. A carefully orchestrated performance designed to leverage whatever lingering sentiment I might have for this family into helping Lucy escape the consequences of her actions.
"I need to go," I said finally, standing up so abruptly that Grandma's hand fell away.
"You can't leave!" Lucy stepped into my path. "You haven't agreed to help me yet!"
"Stella!" Grandma's voice took on a sharp edge I recognized from my childhood—the tone that always preceded punishment or withdrawal of affection.
"I'll... I'll see what I can do," I lied, unable to bear the confrontation. "I need to think about it."
Lucy's face relaxed into a smirk. "I knew you'd come around."
The sarcasm in her voice was thick enough to cut with a knife.
I pushed past her, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere. In the hallway, I nearly collided with John.
I couldn't bear another second in that house. With shaking hands, I gathered my coat and bag, then fled into the crisp New York afternoon.