All Chapters of I Tried To Be A Good Girl, But My Past Won’t Stay Burried: Chapter 61 - Chapter 67

Once Melody left again, the apartment felt like a deflated balloon — silent, still, and full of leftover warmth from where she'd been. Levi padded out of his room, rubbing his eyes and climbing up beside me on the couch like he owned the place. He didn't say a word, just sat there swinging his little legs, watching me. The kid could sense weakness like a shark smelled blood. I wondered if he could tell how powerless I felt — how useless I'd become. I picked up my phone before I could talk myself out of it and dialed the last number I ever wanted to. "Hello, Melody?" Edward's voice came through, chipper and stupid as ever. "It's not Melody," I snapped. "It's me. Is that job interview still open?" "Uh... yeah." "Good. Come get me." I hung up before he could say something that'd make me regret it. I wheeled myself into the bedroom and started digging through drawers and closets until I found a suit — the one decent thing I had left that didn't smell like defeat. It was still wrap

I couldn't believe I was sitting in a board meeting at Mrs. Lake's place. The room itself looked like something out of those glossy business magazines—long walnut table, leather chairs that made my ass feel richer than I was, a wall of glass that gave you just enough skyline to feel important but not so much that you got vertigo. A few men and women were already seated, faces serious, papers neat in front of them, like they'd been born with spreadsheets in their hands. If I handled this right today, Mrs. Lake promised double for the month. $120k in a month sounded like a good mood enhancer. Claire rounded the corner with a drink tray and I did what any sane person would do: I hid. I spun my chair away, buried my face in my folder, and pretended to be invisible. "Please wait—our director will be here shortly," she called, voice syrupy. If I couldn't see her, she couldn't see me, right? Wrong. The window was reflective and there was Claire, glaring and doing that impatient-carved-from

I can't believe I have to look after my brother's kid. Out of everyone in the family, me. Like I didn't already have better things to do than babysit a seven-year-old philosopher trapped in a child's body. Seriously, Levi creeps me out sometimes — he's too observant. Too calm. Like he's silently judging everyone for not meeting his private standard of excellence. "Are you hungry, little man?" I asked, mostly just to fill the silence. He gave me a look — the kind that said I can't believe this idiot's related to me. "We just ate. Why would I be?" Right. Should've known. I sighed. "Hungry or not, I'm taking you to the old house for dinner. Your parents are going to be a while anyway. Grandpa isn't home." I loaded him into the car and drove back to the Blake mansion — home sweet trauma factory. The place was the same as ever: huge, elegant, too clean, and colder than a tax audit. Marble floors, chandelier the size of a small planet, and a silence so thick you could drown in it. We