Evie
How am I supposed to focus when he just looked at me like I should be pitied? I am not going to accept his pity. Not now. Not ever.
“I know that I can’t ever make up for what I did,” he says after a few minutes of silence, twirling a fancy fountain pen between his fingers. “But hopefully, this at least helps.”
“Hopefully what helps,” I mutter quietly, flipping to the next page of the contract lazily.
He quietly sets down the pen on the surface of the table.
“This,” he answers. “Becoming your client. I heard that you were struggling and wanted to try and help you out.”
Once again, he is pitying me.
“I was doing fine,” I grumble. “I didn’t need you to save me like some maiden in distress. This isn’t a fairytale and you aren’t some knight in shining armor.”
“I know you don’t
