3: 3
03
Every face at the Fox table changed.
Bridget ran off in tears.
Davina hurried after her to soothe her.
Matthew threw down his chopsticks and went back to his study.
Ivan stood too. He looked at me. "Eleanor Pruitt, play the victim, sow whatever discord you like, none of it will work. Bridget is my only sister, and she'll be the only daughter this family has."
"Mm. I know."
I'd known since my last life. So this time it didn't hurt.
Ivan stared at how calm I was and, for a long moment, couldn't get a single word out. In the end he turned, face dark, and went upstairs.
I looked at the full table of food and sat down to eat, alone.
I'd been on the road all day, and my stomach had long since caved in on itself.
When I finished, I picked up my phone, snapped a photo, and sent it to Paul Griffin.
【Mr. Griffin, the Fox family fed me their leftovers. (pitiful.jpg)】
Paul answered fast, as always, with the same utterly cold 【Mm.】
I was still trying to work out what he actually meant when my bank account pinged with a transfer of two hundred thousand.
I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud.
Davina happened to be passing behind me, and when she saw me laughing, the anger flared up out of nowhere.
"Eleanor Pruitt, does making your sister cry really make you this happy? What has she ever done to you!"
Her eyes reddened as she spoke.
She was remembering Bridget as a little girl, that thin, tiny bundle pressed to her chest, the child she'd nursed and raised with her own hands.
Such a bright, cheerful child, and now she was crying her heart out, brow furrowed even in her sleep.
And here the one who'd caused it all was this happy.
She really was furious.
I put away the smile, lifted my head, and said, "Mrs. Fox, Bridget and I are the same age."
Her anger jammed mid-breath. Her mouth opened, and it took her a long while before she managed, "Ellie, that's not what I meant... I just think you two sisters could get along..."
I didn't answer that. I changed the subject. "Mrs. Fox, where am I staying?"
Only then did Davina realize that all this time she'd been so busy comforting Bridget she'd completely forgotten to arrange a room for me.
All she could manage, awkwardly, was, "The guest room..."
I nodded. "Thank you."
Guilt flickered through her eyes, and she carried my luggage upstairs herself.
But the moment she pushed the guest room door open, she froze.
The perfectly good guest room was packed with junk, not even room to set a foot down.
She quickly called a maid over to ask what was going on.
"Miss Bridget was worried her piano practice would disturb everyone's rest, so she turned the basement into a music room. There was nowhere to put the things from the basement, so we had to move them into the guest room for now..."
"Is there any other guest room still open?"
"Only the maid's room is left..."
Davina's vision went black. She looked at me, mouth opening and closing, opening and closing, unable to get a word out for a long time.
I smiled at her and said, unbothered, "I'll take the maid's room, then."
The guilt on her face grew heavier.
She saw me into the room and, eyes red, said, "Ellie, I'll have someone clear out the guest room tomorrow. Just bear with it for tonight."
"Mm." I nodded coldly.
Her eyes reddened further. "Do you really have nothing to say to your mother?"
I felt a flicker of impatience.
I thought back to the day I first came home last life.
That night I'd stayed in this same maid's room, and Davina had been just as guilty then, holding my hand, telling me to pour out every hurt I'd ever carried.
I leaned into her arms and told her how at five I'd been so hungry I had to steal the bread other people had left behind.
Told her how at ten I'd had my eardrum ruptured fighting over a plastic bottle.
Told her how at fifteen, with nowhere to go, a strange man had cornered me under a bridge and I'd nearly been violated.
Eighteen years of suffering, and spoken aloud it came out as nothing more than a few weightless sentences.
Davina held me and wept until her face was streaked with tears, swearing she would love me properly from then on, never let me suffer again.
Except the very next day she broke her word.
Bridget cried that her necklace was missing, and only I had been in her room.
Davina didn't give me a single chance to explain. She slapped me across the face.
She said I'd been a thief since childhood, that this life I would never be cured of my stealing.
The memory drew back in. I leaned against the headboard and said flatly, "Mrs. Fox, I'm tired. I'd like to rest."
Davina had probably never been shown out this bluntly. She stiffened, then slowly rose and left, closing the door behind her.
The moment she was gone I sat up and took a photo of the maid's room.
Just as I was about to hit send, I hesitated.
I couldn't keep playing the victim with Paul.
I thought for a moment, then pulled my clothes into disarray, baring two long, pale legs, and took the photo again.
No face.
But it looked innocent and inviting at once.
Pleased, I sent that photo to Paul Griffin.
【Mr. Griffin, the maid's room is so small, I can't even stretch my legs out. (crying.jpg)】
