My brother was the story’s villain—a frail, brooding soul plagued by an eating disorder. In the original novel, the heroine used gourmet food to wrap him around her little finger. Once she grew bored, she tossed him aside like trash. He ended up starving to death, all alone in our mansion. But now, he has me. His bratty, food-loving, grudge-holding little sister. I won't touch food that's a touch too bland or a pinch too salty. I won't swallow rice that's a grain too hard or a second too soft. No takeout. No frozen meals. And if he didn't make it with his own two hands? Forget it. I was his personal, one-man wrecking crew. So when the story's heroine arrived at our door, a gourmet basket in hand, ready to tame her gloomy little puppy… She shrieked, her composure shattering at the sight of the mountain of a man expertly flipping a skillet in our kitchen. The chat comments that had been scrolling beside me for the last five years trembled with laughter. 【LMAO, the mermaid in the pond turned out to be a megalodon. Who wouldn't have a meltdown?】 1. When I opened my eyes on the hospital bed, a chaotic stream of text messages floating in the air gave me a splitting headache. 【WTF, wasn't the villain's sister supposed to die young? Why is she still alive?】 【Who knows. Even alive, she's just a burden. The villain is a senior in high school, and their parents died in a car crash last year. How is he supposed to take care of a sick two-year-old?】 【Don't be so harsh. Everyone knows Fred Blackwood treats his sister like she's his whole world. He's been running to the hospital every day since she was born.】 【Totally. In the book, he dropped out of school after his sister died. No parents, no friends, no college. He just spent his days street racing and skydiving until he wrecked his legs and went back to the mansion to die. That is, until the heroine showed up with her food to win him over…】 【Pfft, please. He only survived because he latched onto our Stella. The cripple was lucky to get a decent meal. And he still had the nerve to ask her why she left him before he died? Pathetic.】 My eyes snagged on the words "decent meal." I glanced down at the delicate platinum bracelet on my wrist, easily worth a few million, and smacked my lips in confusion. Why wouldn't my brother get a decent meal? Are we poor? 【Quit fighting! He’s here!】 【Damn, no cap, Fred Blackwood’s face is a masterpiece. The whole room just got brighter.】 【Broad shoulders, narrow waist, legs for days. That girl Stella is eating good!】 "Willow?" A pair of gloomy, intense eyes met my own wide, curious ones, and suddenly, the boy's entire being seemed to spark with life. He dropped his backpack and rushed toward my bed, his long legs covering the distance in three quick strides. He carefully scooped my tiny, soft body into his arms and gently nuzzled his cheek against mine. Pure joy radiated from him, his lips threatening to split his face with a grin. "Willow! You're awake!" "Thank God, you're awake." A warm drop landed on my cheek, and his choked whisper hung in the air. "I thought… I thought you were going to leave me all alone, too…" The noisy chatter of the floating comments fell eerily silent. I grinned, patting my brother's face with my clumsy baby hands. Starving? Legs broken? Hmph! Not on my watch. 2. After no less than a dozen check-ups, my brother, Fred, was finally allowed to take me home. The doctor instructed him to start me on some soft, pureed foods. "Open up, Willa. Here comes the airplane…" Fred held a tiny spoon, patiently trying to feed me some creamed chicken porridge. I obediently opened my mouth and took a small taste. A smile touched his lips. My sister is so good. The next second, I spat it all out. A mess of saliva and porridge dribbled down my chin and onto my clothes, leaving a nasty stain. Fred fumbled for a napkin, frantically trying to clean me up. The comments exploded. 【Dude, get the kid a bib! Toddlers are messy!】 【Why'd she spit it out? Was it too salty?】 【No way, the cook didn't add any salt.】 【See? I told you she was a burden. Can't even eat properly.】 【If you don't like it, get lost. Don't ruin the mood.】 【Maybe it was too hot? My puppy spits out his food when it's too hot.】 【Nah, I saw Fred check it with a thermometer before he fed her.】 Fred frowned, staring at the bowl in his hands. He'd had an eating disorder since he was a kid. More than once, he'd survived only thanks to an IV drip. Getting him to willingly eat something was harder than pulling teeth. But his sister had just rejected the food. After a long hesitation, he still couldn't bring himself to try it. He waved over the butler, Mr. Evans, who tasted a spoonful. "Not too hot, not too salty, perfectly smooth. There's nothing wrong with it, Master Fred." Fred cautiously offered me another spoonful. I took it into my mouth, and then promptly spat it all out again. His expression slowly darkened. He stared at the bowl of porridge with the intensity of a man facing his executioner, a storm of emotions churning in his eyes. The floating comments were already placing bets on whether he'd actually taste it. My flailing hand slapped him across the cheek. He let out a long, defeated sigh. With a look of pure resignation, he opened his mouth and swallowed a large spoonful of the porridge. Before I could even celebrate, his face turned pale. He shot up from his chair and bolted for the bathroom. I could hear the violent sounds of him retching from the living room. When Fred returned, his eyes were ringed with red. Seeing my curious gaze, he forced a smile and brought the spoon to my lips again. "It's okay, Willa. Big brother tried it, it's really yummy. How about one more bite?" I stared at him, obediently took a mouthful, and spat it all out. The living room plunged into a dead silence. 3. The comments flickered nonstop. 【Oh god, don't tell me his sister has an eating disorder too. She's so frail, she'd never survive it. Is the villain doomed to be alone forever?】 【Please, Willow, just one bite! Your brother has no one else left! He's so scared right now his lips are turning white!】 【Ahhh what do we do?! Can the heroine show up early and save her?】 【Maybe she just doesn't like chicken porridge? What about a different flavor?】 Fred suddenly leaned in and kissed my cheek, his own face a ghostly white. He managed a strained smile. "I get it now. Willa doesn't like the chicken porridge, does she?" "It's okay, I don't like it either. How about I go make you something else?" I calmly played with my fingers, ignoring him. Under the guidance of our cook, Mrs. Gable, my clumsy brother managed to prepare a small bowl of butternut squash puree. His nerves were stretched so taut that he instinctively bypassed his own aversion, scooping a bit into his mouth to test it first. Sweet, smooth, and perfectly soft. Fred’s hand trembled as he extended the small spoon toward me. Please, Willa. Please don’t be like me. Don't… don't leave me all alone. Mr. Evans and Mrs. Gable watched with bated breath. The comments bounced around, praying to every deity they could think of. Meeting my brother's anxious gaze, I opened my mouth, let the puree slide in, paused for two seconds, and slowly swallowed. A collective sigh of relief filled the room. Mrs. Gable chuckled. "Well, what do you know. It seems our little miss will only eat what her brother makes for her." Fred’s tense shoulders relaxed, and a brilliant smile bloomed on his face as he offered me another spoonful. I tilted my head, my big eyes blinking up at him. The next second, the butternut squash puree came right back out. The smile on my brother’s face froze. The comments, which had just been cheering, went completely silent. "Willa, what's wrong…? Is… is something not right?" His smile was more painful than a grimace. I stared at his spoon, saying nothing. He wrung his hands, thinking hard for a long moment. Then, he picked up his own spoon, took a large bite while fighting the urge to gag, and hesitantly offered the small spoon to me again. With everyone watching, I slowly swallowed the puree. He repeated the process three more times. And each time, I obediently swallowed my bite. Mr. Evans slapped his forehead in a moment of revelation, his voice shaking with excitement. "Master Fred! She's copying you! She's learning how to eat from you!" "From now on, just take a few bites yourself before you feed her, and she'll eat without a problem!" The comments whispered amongst themselves. 【Is it just me, or does it feel like the little sister is doing this on purpose?】 【You know, you might be onto something. When has the villain ever eaten this much? This is probably more than he eats in a month.】 【Don't be ridiculous, she's only two years old.】 【I think it's possible. Don't forget, this is the kid who was supposed to die.】 【True… so all this back and forth was intentional? That little rascal! She's playing us!】 【Hahaha, this is great! Finally, someone can handle the villain. He never thought that after all his stubborn fasting, he'd one day be on his knees begging his little princess to eat.】 【Wait, no! If he keeps taste-testing everything, his anorexia will be cured! Then how is our Stella supposed to win him over?】 【That's disgusting! Why should Fred have to starve to death just to satisfy your heroine’s power trip?】 【Exactly! His eating disorder, his parents' death—it was all just a setup for her special ability. Hasn't the villain suffered enough?!】 … 4. The comments argued endlessly while I grew up, bite by bite, on the delicious food my brother personally fed me. On my first day of preschool, I was four years old. Fred, now a sophomore in college, held me at the school gate and wailed like a fire hydrant had burst. "Waaaah… my precious Willa, what will you ever do without me?" "Sob… I know you're picky and greedy and have a bad temper, and you hold grudges and are vain and petty, but I still love you so, so much! Waaaaah…" I saw the barely suppressed laughter from the people around us and his two best friends. Beside me, the comments were practically distorted with hysterics. I deadpanned and gave him a solid thump on the arm. He wasn't wrong, though. In the past two years, I’d grown teeth and learned to talk, and my palate had become even more demanding. A touch too bland, a pinch too salty—nope. A grain too hard, a second too soft—forget it. No takeout, no frozen meals. I ate only what Fred made himself. The portions were small, but the variety had to be extensive. My cravings were endless; if I saw it, I wanted it. Every dish that landed on my table was something he'd learned, step by step, from Mrs. Gable. If I wasn't satisfied, he had to remake it. If he was too slow, I’d bite him. And if he dared to get angry, I’d give him the silent treatment for three days. Over time, he learned to just take the pain. But with Mr. Evans, Mrs. Gable, and his friends Mason and Silas, I was always perfectly polite. He was the only one I tormented. What can I say? The day I first learned to call him "brother," he dropped to his knees, hugged me with tears streaming down his face, and swore he’d cook for me for the rest of his life. I patted his arm, which was no longer so frail. All that forced taste-testing and pan-flipping over the years had built some serious muscle. "Brother, just leave the lunchbox and go. Study hard, and no street racing or skydiving with your friends, you hear me?" "Okay," Fred sniffled, rubbing his cheek against mine one last time. "But Willa, you haven't told me you love me most today." In front of everyone? No way. I leaned forward, my face impassive, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Alright, you can go now." Fred, finally satisfied, slung his arms around his friends and left. 5. When I started elementary school at seven, Fred was in his first year of grad school. Mason was still his roommate, while Silas had already adopted a serious haircut and taken over his family's corporation. My brother had also made two new friends through a programming competition. The number of people picking me up from school grew from one to three, then back to two, and finally to four. "Willa, sweetie!" Fred waved a brawny arm, running over to scoop me up and plant a big kiss on my cheek. "Haven't seen you in a week! Did you miss your big brother?" I hung limply in his rock-solid embrace, not saying a word. "Whoa, what's this?" Mason peered at me curiously. "Who dared to make our little princess unhappy?" Two unfamiliar handsome faces leaned in, their eyes filled with curiosity. "Fred, is this the precious sister you never shut up about?" Fred grunted in confirmation, lifting me out of his hug to hold me up high. He frowned at my red-rimmed eyes. "Willa, who bullied you? Tell me, and I'll go sort them out!" The tears finally spilled over. "Brother," I asked miserably, "am I a bad kid with no parents and no manners?" The words hung in the air, and the smiles on all four young men's faces instantly vanished. The comments had already gone ballistic. 【Willa, don't listen to that little bully! He's just jealous your family is rich! Tell your brother to teach him a lesson!】 【Yeah! Tell your brother he started it! He snatched your notebook and deliberately smashed your favorite ceramic bear!】 【Trash kids come from trash parents. Those two foul-mouthed parents of his are no better! Willa, don't go easy on them. Have your brother get a lawyer and make them pay and apologize!】 【Don't be sad, Willa. You're the sweetest, kindest little girl we've ever seen! It's all that biased teacher's fault, and that awful family's!】 【Exactly! She was so scared of distracting her brother during his competition that she didn't even call him after being bullied. She let those monsters get away with it!】 … 6. His face a dark storm cloud, Fred hugged me tighter. The five of us stormed the principal's office like an avenging army. After reviewing all the security footage, Fred said nothing. He simply grabbed the trembling teacher, Ms. Albright, and dragged her out the door. Mason and the others sat me down on a chair, a united front making it clear they were here to back me up. When Principal Wallace opened his door, he saw the heirs to four of the city's five great families—the ones every financial journalist dreamed of interviewing—sitting right there. The only one missing was Silas. His heart sank. He trembled, about to fall to his knees and beg for mercy, but Fred grabbed him by the collar with one hand and hauled him away. Mason followed them out. The little bully who had tormented me was now bawling his eyes out, while his mother, the woman who had pointed a finger at me and called me mannerless, was slumped on the floor in a stupor. I nervously peeked out from behind the two new brothers, but they just smiled and gently covered my eyes and ears. The air grew thick with a strange, metallic scent. When I opened my eyes again, the lead attorney who was always with Silas was smiling down at me. "Hey there, Princess Willa! Long time no see!" I never saw the bully, his family, or the condescending Ms. Albright ever again.
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