Chapter 8
“What’s wrong with being a delivery guy?” I took a step forward, sneering. “He earns his living with his own hands, which is more than can be said for snobs like you!”
“You!”
My father’s face turned purple with rage. “Are you determined to defy me? Finding some low-life to piss us
off?”
“I think that delivery guy has drugged you or something! What kind of spell has he cast to make you throw away all your dignity?”
I laughed coldly. “In your eyes, is anyone not a Williams automatically ‘low-class’? Sophie putting on an act makes her ‘high-class,’ but me standing on my own two feet is ‘wallowing in the muck”?”
My father was left speechless by my retort.
“Enough! Both of you, stop it!”
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My mother hurried forward to pull my father back, then turned to me and coaxed softly, “Emily, don’t speak to your father like that. He’s worried about you, afraid you’ll suffer. That boy doesn’t have a stable job; how will you live in the future?”
“How we live is none of your concern.”
I shot them a cold glance. “At least he won’t always put his adopted sister before his own wife, like you all do.”
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