Emily
My first day at work was nothing like I had imagined.
It started badly—before I even stepped out of the house.
I had barely finished buttoning my blouse when my stepmother’s voice cut through the hallway, sharp and deliberate, as if she had been waiting for the exact moment I was least prepared.
“Emily.”
I stopped, my fingers hovering over the last button. I already knew that tone. Calm on the surface, coiled with irritation underneath.
“Yes?” I answered, keeping my voice neutral as I turned.
She stood at the foot of the stairs, arms folded, eyes flicking over my outfit with thinly veiled disapproval. Not because it was inappropriate—if anything, it was too proper—but because it wasn’t what she expected.
“When exactly are you planning to stop coming and going like this?” she
