The Laziest Girl Alive Chapter 11

The Laziest Girl Alive Chapter 11

That phone was basically decoration most of the time.

The only calls it ever got were from Security, and only when something urgent was going on.

I picked it up, and a nervous voice from Security came through the receiver.

“Dr. Reed, ma’am, there are two people at the front gate who say they’re your parents,” he said. “They insist on coming in, and we can’t hold them back much longer…”

Before he could finish, I heard my mom’s familiar voice shouting in the background.

“Move. I’m here to see my own daughter. I don’t need your permission. Nora! Nora, you get out here right now.”

I quietly moved the receiver a little farther from my ear.

Ethan’s face darkened immediately.

He took the phone from my hand and said into it, “This is Ethan. Let them in.”

After he hung up, he looked at me, his eyes full of apology.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s fine,” I said, waving him off. “I already figured this was coming.”

Given what I knew about them, it would have been more surprising if they had found out what I was

really worth and not caused a scene.

I just hadn’t expected them to move this fast.

It wasn’t long before they were at my door.

A few members of the Institute’s admin staff trailed behind them, looking helpless, clearly wanting to step in but too scared to.

My parents had probably never set foot in a place like this.

When my mom took in my bare-bones apartment, her eyes filled with instant tears.

“Nora,” she said, her voice wobbling, “how can you live somewhere like this? This is worse than the suite we give the housekeeper. Come home with us, okay? Mom’s had a brand-new room done up for you, and I’ll buy you anything you want.”

My dad looked at me like he was carrying the weight of the world, slipping into his usual boardroom

voice.

“Enough,” he said. “Do you understand how important you are? You’re one of the country’s leading scientists. How can you treat yourself like this?”

“Come home. There’s nothing we don’t have. Whatever research environment you need, I’ll invest and build it for you.”

They traded lines back and forth, their performance polished enough to win awards.

Anyone who didn’t know better might actually believe they were a pair of deeply devoted parents.

Ethan stepped in front of me, his tone frosty.

“Dad, Mom, stop pushing her,” he said. “This is where she works.”

“Stay out of this.”

My mom shot him a glare.

“If it weren’t for you, Nora wouldn’t have gone through all this. We’re taking her home right now.”

She reached out to grab my arm.

I leaned back just enough to slip out of reach.

I didn’t say a word the whole time.

I just watched them perform.

Only when their throats were dry and they had dragged the drama out as far as it could go did I finally push myself slowly up from the beanbag chair.

The movement gave them hope, and both their eyes lit up.

I ignored them, walked over to my one and only desk, pulled open the drawer, and fished out a document from under a mess of draft pages.

Then I walked back and unfolded the slightly crumpled sheet of printer paper in front of them.

“Mr. Reed, Mrs. Reed,” I said calmly. “When I moved back into the Reed house, we signed an agreement. It’s all right here in black and white.”

I pointed to one line and read it out loud.

“I, Nora Reed, agree to live with the Reed family for one year as a trial reconciliation period. During that time, I will not participate in Reed family business, claim Reed family assets, attend public family events, or assume personal or financial obligations on behalf of the Reed family. At the end of the one-year period, I may leave the Reed residence at my sole discretion and owe the Reed

family no further personal obligations.”

As I read, I watched their faces go from flushed red to ghost white, then from white to an ugly shade of green.

“The agreement says one year,” I went on, lifting my eyes to meet theirs.

“But I don’t think we need to wait. You’re too loud and too much trouble, and you seriously interfere with my brain’s rest.”

With that, under their stunned, speechless stares, I folded the agreement neatly in half.

Then I slowly, carefully tore it straight down the middle.

I let go, and the shredded pieces fluttered down like snow, scattering across the toes of their very expensive handmade shoes.

“Now,” I said, looking at their bloodless faces as I spoke each word clearly, “I owe the Reed family nothing.”