Family Business

Faking

Claire's pov

I cried myself to sleep that night, feeling incredibly sorry for myself. Why are they so angry at me for wanting to go home? I didn't want to come here. I didn't ask my uncle and grandfather to take care of me because my mom died and my dad disappeared. Uncle EJ called me an ungrateful brat after he slapped me. Why the Hell should I be grateful?

Should I be grateful my mom died? Should I be grateful I met my father for the first time at the age of nine? Or maybe I should be grateful that he dumped me in a foreign country with two horrible strangers I'm supposedly related to and then he literally took off the same day. Maybe I should be grateful I'm allowed to live here with these two overbearing clueless heartless assholes who have no freakin' clue what I'm going through, I thought to myself sarcastically.

Ungrateful? Ha! You try being grateful when you've been ripped away from the only people you have ever known and loved and the only people who have ever cared about you your entire life. Then to top it all off, throw in a tall, stiff British tree who calls himself your uncle to be forced upon you as your guardian in a foreign frickin country to live in a creepy-ass, old mansion owned and inhabited by your overbearing, ruthless troll of a grandfather.

My pity party was interrupted by crisp, no-nonsense rapping on my door. Alfred. He's the only one I know who has a distinctly business-like, professional, efficient knock that contains absolutely no emotion in how it's administered. I turned to look at the time on my phone, 8:15am. Great, another morning woken up early for no flippin' reason.

"Who is it?" I asked, stalling for time, knowing I don't want to hear the message he's about to deliver. Damn, my cheek still hurts where Uncle EJ slapped me. I winced as I rubbed it gingerly.

"It's Lorenzo, Miss. Your grandfather would like you to meet him in his study this morning at 08:30 sharp."

"Oh, um," I fake coughed a couple times to stall for time. I bet he wants to yell at me for mouthing off to him, running up to my room and slamming the door. In all fairness, he did tell me that's a big no-no.

"Miss," Alfred called out, when I hadn't said anything for awhile. "Are you alright?" he asked, when I still didn't respond.

"Um, no, Alfr..." Dammit, I have to quit doing that, or pretty soon I'm gonna call him Alfred to his face. "Lorenzo, I, uh, don't feel so good. I think I'm sick. My, uh, head is pounding and my throat hurts and I feel cold but I'm like all sweaty and stuff. I probably have a fever. I don't want to get Grandfather sick so can you tell him I'm just gonna stay in bed today and rest?" I hope he bought that, even though it was an incredibly pathetic attempt at pretending to be sick.

"I'll fetch the doctor right away, Miss."

"No no, don't do that," I replied way too quickly.

"Well if you're ill, Miss, I must." Poor Alfred sounded confused.

"No, I mean, yeah, I'm sick but it's not necessary to get a doctor. I'll be alright. I just need to rest, that's all," I said, nervously gnawing at my fingernails or more accurately, stubby chewed-off nail-like remnants.

"Are you sure, Miss?" I've gotta hand it to Alfred. He remained quite stoic and professional despite not believing a word out of my mouth.

Insert fake coughing sound here, "Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks anyway. I'm just gonna take some Tylenol and crash. That's paracetamol to you Europeans."

"Alright, if you're sure, Miss, about not needing medical attention, I'll relay the news of your current health to Master Dimerra straightaway."

I turned on my side and pulled the covers over my head as I heard Alfred scamper away to relay the news. I wonder what my grandfather's going to do. Hopefully, he'll just leave me alone. That's the best case scenario and I honestly don't want to think about the worst right now. I closed my eyes and must've fallen back asleep because I was awoken with a start.