The next day.
Eliza’s voice cuts through the office like nails on a chalkboard.
“Heard about Worthington Enterprises. Poor Kylie is dirt poor again,” she cackles, leaning against my cubicle with a self-satisfied smirk. “Back to your roots, huh? It’s nice to see some balance restored in the universe.”
I force a smile, gripping my pen a little tighter to keep from snapping it in half. I can practically feel the pity oozing from her voice, thinly veiled in a mocking sympathy that only Eliza could deliver.
I don't bother engaging with her. She’s always been ruthless, but today, with everything on my mind — my mom, the million-dollar treatment, moving into a new home that’s a far cry from Benedict’s mansion — I just can’t afford to give her any of my energy.
“Oh, don’t be so glum, darling,” she continues, flipping her hair. “I always thought the Worthingtons were insufferable. It’s only fitting that one of their little puppets would end up back where she belongs. Funny how the universe works.”
Her words sting, but they don’t pierce me the way they would have months ago. I know what she’s trying to do — belittle me, make me feel small. But as much as I’m struggling right now, I know who I am. And I know what matters. She can’t take that away from me.
I inhale deeply, focusing on the mountain of work in front of me. The charity gala is tomorrow night, and I’ve been working my fingers to the bone to make it happen.