Chapter 5 - Alone

With these credentials, I’ll be frank with you, Miss Knowles—we don’t have a position for you here.”

The recruiter barely glanced at me as she slid my résumé back across the desk.

“You might want to try applying for blue-collar work,” she continued briskly. “Janitorial services. Kitchen assistant positions.”

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the thin paper.

“We value honesty in this company,” she added, her tone cooling further, “and given the scandal you were involved in, I don’t believe you’re the right fit. I don’t think I can trust you.”

The meeting was over before I could even nod.

As I stepped out of the building, I released a long, weary sigh, the echo of rejection clinging to me like a second skin. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard those words—and I knew, with quiet certainty, it wouldn’t be the last.

I had tried. God, how I had tried.

I went from office to office, résumé in hand, rehearsing smiles and answers, hoping—foolishly—that someone would see past my name. But with my credentials, it felt impossible. My grades were poor, the result of years spent shrinking myself for someone else’s success.

And even when that wasn’t enough to disqualify me, there was always the same invisible wall.

The scandal.

No matter where I went, it followed me.

No matter how hard I tried to move forward, my name—forever tangled with Ashton and the Knowles family—kept slamming doors shut in my face.

“Why are you so cruel to me, Bay City?”

The question curved into a faint, humorless smile as I watched the sun sink toward the horizon. I sat on the cool grass beside the lagoon, the water catching fire with streaks of gold and amber, as though the city could still pretend to be kind.

Nearby, families spread picnic blankets across the lawn. Soft laughter drifted through the air. Couples leaned into one another. Children chased the fading light, carefree and loud.

And then there was me—resting my aching legs after walking for hours, circling buildings that had already rejected me before I ever stepped inside.

I needed a job. I needed something—anything.

But Bay City seemed determined to shut every door in my face.

“Do I really have no place here?” I murmured, lifting my gaze to the sky now painted in soft orange and bruised pink, as though the answers might be written between the clouds.

I drew in a shaky breath as the realization settled heavily in my chest.

“Bay City is not for you, Cassidy,” I whispered into the open air, my eyes drifting over the tranquil scene before me.

Beautiful.

Indifferent.

Unforgiving.

“Ashton is right,” I let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. “You’re pathetic.”

The word tasted sour on my tongue—but it felt honest.

All my life, I had been desperate to belong. I bent myself into shapes I no longer recognized, trying to earn my father’s approval, his wife’s tolerance, my half-sister’s acceptance. I even tried with Ashton.

And I had been so stupid—so painfully naïve—not to see the truth sooner.

No matter what I did, I would never be accepted by my father’s family. To them, I wasn’t a daughter or a sister.

I was a reminder.

Living proof of my father’s betrayal.

A mistake that refused to disappear.

If I hadn’t been so foolish, I could have excelled in school. If I hadn’t lived my entire life trapped in Mirriam’s shadow, companies in Bay City might have been begging me to join them. If I hadn’t tried so hard to fit into a place where I was never meant to belong—

I wouldn’t be sitting here now, talking to a city that had already decided I didn’t exist.

“Was I wrong for wanting to know how it feels to belong?”

I bit down on my lower lip, the sting grounding me as my voice quivered despite my effort to stay composed.

“Was it really such an impossible dream for someone like me?”

Once, I had been full of dreams—dreams that reached far beyond my place in the world.

When I was a child, I wanted to become just like Madame Rima Knowles.

She was commanding—imposing in the way only powerful women could be. Always poised. Always immaculate. She stood beside my father as his equal, never his shadow. When she spoke, people listened. When she entered a room, it seemed to subtly bend around her.

I used to think that was what strength looked like.

In my childish imagination, I wore tailored business suits that fit me perfectly, elegant heels clicking confidently against polished marble floors. Designer bags rested effortlessly on my arm. Dazzling jewelry caught the light as I moved, announcing my presence before I even spoke.

I didn’t just want success.

I wanted authority.

Respect.

Proof that I mattered.

I even told her about that dream once.

Madame Rima only sneered—a cool, distant curve of her lips—and told me it was impossible for someone like me to ever become her.

So I learned how to make myself smaller.

I completed Mirriam’s assignments—her projects, her research—pouring my intelligence into work that would never carry my name. She collected exemplary grades and glowing praise, while I was allowed nothing more than a barely passing mark, even when perfection had been within easy reach.

I told myself it was necessary.

I told myself obedience was survival.

But now, I was reaping the consequences of my own foolishness—of every dream I buried, every boundary I never crossed, and every version of myself I erased just to earn a place where I was never truly wanted.

The sky had already darkened by the time I decided to leave. I didn’t want to abandon the fragile peace of the lagoon, but my stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I had only eaten a piece of bread all day.

I stood—only for my legs to wobble beneath me.

“Shit.”

The world tilted as dizziness washed over me. I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled deeply, forcing myself to stay upright.

“Why are you becoming such a sissy these days, Cassidy?” I scolded myself. I had no right to be weak—not when I had no one to lean on.

After a few minutes, the dizziness eased. I pushed myself to stand again. I was on my own. I couldn’t afford to collapse here.

“Just let me get back,” I whispered, taking one careful step at a time.

I had barely gone a short distance when I passed a pharmacy.

Before I could stop myself, my feet carried me inside.

I went straight to the counter, grabbed a box, and paid with my head lowered, avoiding the cashier’s eyes. Just as quickly, I rushed out.

Whatever strength I had left, I used it to get home.

Inside my small room, I went straight to the cramped bathroom, hands trembling as I read the instructions printed on the package. I followed each step carefully—slowly—methodically—until there was nothing left to do but wait.

My heart pounded violently against my chest. The sound was deafening.

I checked the watch on my wrist.

When the time finally passed, I inhaled deeply, bracing myself before stepping closer. Slowly, hesitantly, I looked down at the small object resting atop the toilet flush.

“Oh my…”

My hand flew to my mouth as I weakly gasped, disbelief crashing over me all at once.