“Smile,” Joy, my stepmother, hissed from my left.I forced a smile onto my lips, even though smiling was the last thing I felt like doing. The straps of the shoes Joy forced me to wear were digging into my skin; I was sure that by the time I got home, my feet would be covered in blisters.I hated dressing up, but I had no choice since my father was a public figure—the Mayor of Ottawa, to be exact.When my mother was alive, we would’ve stayed at home and watched movies because she wasn’t very fond of parties, either. But it all changed when she died and my father married Joy. She had him wrapped around her finger, and I hated that.I hated her.My eyes darted around as we walked further into the grand room. People were everywhere; dancing or standing in groups—probably gossiping—or sitting at the tables enjoying the buffet.I’d rather be at the library, sorting through all the new books that were delivered earlier the day.My hand shook as I grabbed a glass of wine from the tray of a p
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