Chapter 2

The next day, I used someone else's phone to call Martha.

“Grandma, why did you block me? Just because I ate a chicken drumstick?”

I’d lived with Martha since I was little. Whatever I wanted, it would appear in her hands the next day.

Her voice rose, sharp and piercing, as if it would shatter my eardrums:

“I don’t have a granddaughter like you. Your dad should never have had you!”

My legs instantly went weak, and I sank to the floor.

What had I done wrong? Why were they treating me like this?

Both Dad and Grandma Martha wanted to cut ties with me, all because I ate a few bites of chicken drumstick.

My heart was a mess of emotions. Were they hiding something from me?

Perhaps they were in some kind of trouble and were using this as an excuse to cut me off, so I wouldn’t get involved.

I was completely baffled. I called every relative I could think of, asking about them.

But their answers were identical:

“No, everything’s fine. They’re all healthy, and their careers are going smoothly.”

My head felt heavy, the world spinning around me. Could they really be cutting ties with me just because I ate a chicken drumstick?

I spent the next night tossing and turning, unable to sleep. I decided to go back to my hometown to see Martha and get a clear explanation.

But I was currently working on a major project and could only wait until my vacation.

More than ten days passed. I was constantly traveling for work and didn't have time to dwell on these things.

I also tried to reassure myself that if they weren't willing to let me eat a simple chicken drumstick, then maybe such a family wasn't worth having.

Through this, I realized my standing in their hearts was nothing special. From now on, I’d live my own life, relying on myself to create a good future. That was the only way.

But ever since that incident, I hadn't eaten a chicken drumstick again.

I thought the whole thing was over, but at the project completion celebration, Mr. Hayes invited our team to a rustic restaurant known for its free-range chicken.

I got incredibly stressed at the mention of anything chicken-related. I immediately called Mr. Hayes to try and decline, but he was surprisingly inflexible:

“Mia, you were the main person in charge of this project. How can you not attend?”

“If your teammates see you not coming, aren’t you disrespecting me, your manager?”

“Your team also has interns. You need to lead by example, right?”

“No more excuses. If you don't show up, don't bother coming in again.”

Mr. Hayes was usually very approachable, but this time, for some reason, he absolutely insisted I go.

This was the first major project I’d completed since leading the team, and I’d poured a lot of effort into it.

To keep my job, I drove there.

Everyone was toasting each other, the atmosphere was lively, and they kept raising their glasses to me.

But when the steaming hot chicken soup was placed on the table, I couldn't help but frown.

Before, just for eating one chicken drumstick, my own father wanted to cut ties with me, and Grandma Martha, who loved me most, vowed to never contact me again.

If I ate a chicken drumstick today, would I lose my job too?

At that thought, I recoiled, pulling back my fork, and shivered.

I stood up, intending to get some fresh air outside.

But just as I was about to leave, Lisa, who usually couldn't stand me, spoke up, her voice sharp, making everyone look my way:

“Mia, Mr. Hayes specifically ordered this free-range chicken for you. Not even touching your fork is a huge slap in his face, isn’t it?”

We'd worked together for two years, and she’d filed reports against me at least a dozen times, always trying to trip me up and make my life miserable.

I steadied myself and spoke calmly:

“I’ve been feeling under the weather lately, so I can’t have chicken soup or chicken meat.”

“Everyone, enjoy your food and have a great time.”

With that, I practically fled towards the door.

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