Chapter 4
524words
"I already did," I said softly.
"Once?" She scoffed. "Do you have any idea how much Cynthia suffered? Don't play innocent with me, Alice. I see right through your petty scheme. You're simply jealous of her."
She looked me up and down like I was something stuck to her shoe, each word precise and cutting:
"Jealous that she's not only more beautiful but has a Cambridge doctorate and talents you could never match. We graciously allowed you into this family, gave you everything, and what have you contributed? You couldn't even keep a child alive, and you're completely useless in business matters. What exactly is your purpose here?"
I bit back a bitter laugh.
Two years ago, when the Dalton Group nearly collapsed during the financial crisis, I risked exposure by tapping into my father's network. My quiet interventions saved their company from bankruptcy.
I never said a word about it.
Growing up in my father's world, I understood the shadow games of corporate warfare better than anyone at this table. I'd orchestrated several takeovers before I turned eighteen.
I just couldn't stomach the bloodshed anymore. After marriage, I swore to leave that life behind.
"Please don't be upset, Mother Dalton," Cynthia interjected with perfect timing.
She offered a sympathetic smile. "We can't blame Alice. She never finished college, and came from... well, modest beginnings. With her limited education and no exposure to proper society, how could she possibly understand business matters?"
As she spoke, she glanced my way—seemingly defending me while actually twisting the knife deeper, reminding everyone I was an outsider.
"Though she hasn't contributed much, she has tried her best as a housekeeper," she added with false kindness.
Who the hell gave her the right to assess my worth like this?
I swallowed the rage building in my throat.
Catching my reflection in the glass wall, I saw what they saw—a gaunt, sallow woman, hollowed by illness and grief. Next to Cynthia's vibrant glow, I looked like the help who'd wandered in from the kitchen.
"Cindy is so compassionate," Loki's mother cooed. "Now that you're back, you must stay permanently. Loki needs an assistant at the company. With your qualifications, you're perfect."
Cynthia glanced at me—the victorious new queen addressing the deposed—and said sweetly, "If Loki needs me, I'll be there for him. Always."
I turned to Loki, my heart empty of hope.
Loki smiled at her with naked adoration. "I will always need you, Cindy."
The exact words he'd whispered to me on our wedding night.
So his precious declarations weren't uniquely mine—they were recycled lines from a script he'd performed before.
None of it mattered anymore.
My phone vibrated with a new message: [Passport and ticket secured. Ready when you are.]
"Alice!" Loki's mother snapped. "Stop playing with your phone and go prepare dinner!"
I rose without a word and drifted toward the kitchen, my body leaden with exhaustion. The familiar weight of depression pressed down on my shoulders.
I pulled out my phone and typed a single word: [Good.]
