The System Gave Me One Job Then Regretted Choosing Me Chapter 03

The System Gave Me One Job Then Regretted Choosing Me Chapter 03

The uproar over the hospital room ended when Whitmore Holdings used its influence to bury the story.

I got the shared room I had been promised.

Six beds. Crowded and loud.

Relatives shouted into their phones in the hallway. Babies cried. Machines beeped around the clock.

Every day, the System tried to talk me into finding some reason to care about this world.

[That nurse was so gentle when she gave you your shot.]

[Look how beautiful the sunshine is today.]

I gazed out at the gray rain and did not bother exposing the lie.

Two weeks later, the cast came off. I could walk with crutches.

The Whitmores sent a driver to collect me. There were no flowers and no family waiting downstairs.

The driver offered nothing more than a cool, “Miss Reed, your car is ready.”

It was already dark when we reached the Whitmore mansion.

Light spilled from every window, and the sound of a violin floated from the ballroom.

Tonight was my welcome party.

It was also the night the Whitmores would formally introduce their long-lost daughter to Manhattan society.

I entered slowly on my crutches.

Guests in couture and black tie stood in glittering clusters. When they saw me in a plain gray sweatsuit, every conversation faltered.

Eleanor, wearing a wine-colored evening gown, was laughing over champagne with several Manhattan socialites. Her smile tightened for half a second when she saw me.

Then she crossed the room with practiced grace.

“Emma, why aren’t you wearing the dress I picked out for you?”

The dress was a complicated confection of lace that required towering heels to hang properly. For someone fresh out of a cast, it might as well have been a torture device.

I did not answer. My attention shifted to Vivian.

She wore a custom white gown and stood surrounded by young socialites, delicate as a lily in bloom.

“Emma, you’re home.”

Vivian gathered her skirt and approached, her voice soft as water.

In full view of the room, she bowed her head deeply.

“What happened at the hospital was my fault. I never should have taken your private room, even if I was sick. I begged Mom and Dad to throw this party for you. I hope you can forgive me.”

Whispers rose immediately around us.

“The long-lost daughter certainly thinks highly of herself. Vivian is practically begging, and she can’t even manage a smile.”

“I heard she threatened suicide to force Vivian out. You can take the girl out of a trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl.”

“The Whitmores are saints for letting her stay.”

No one bothered lowering their voice.

They wore their cruelty as elegantly as their jewelry.

Grant came to my side and offered me a glass of juice.

“Vivian has done everything she can. If you keep sulking, you’ll humiliate the entire family.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.

“If you want to belong in this world, learn how to behave in public.”

I stared at the golden juice.

Nausea surged through me.

The physical symptoms of my depression peaked all at once. My ears rang. Faces blurred and twisted around me.

Pressure. Suffocation. Revulsion.

I set the glass on a passing server’s tray and turned toward the long dining table at the edge of the ballroom.

Steak knives gleamed beside the place settings.

I picked one up. The silver blade flashed beneath the chandeliers.

The whispers faded.

Eleanor noticed first. Her brow tightened.

“Emma, what are you doing?”

Adrian set down his glass, his eyes hardening.

“Put down the knife. We have guests. Do not turn tonight into another spectacle.”

I faced them with the knife in my hand.

I did not scream or accuse anyone.

I calmly pushed up my left sleeve.

The original Emma had left a maze of scars there over countless desperate nights. Some were old, some new. Some were dark brown, others pale pink.

The sight silenced the room.

I gently rested the edge of the knife against the pulse in my wrist.

“Since all of you think I’m putting on a show,” I said, watching the blood drain from Vivian’s face, “I might as well give you a performance worth remembering.”