The same classmates who’d been whispering about me two minutes ago now looked like they’d seen a ghost, scattering without a second glance at Brenda.
Robert snapped out of his daze and shoved me, yelling, “Are you insane? That’s Miss Brenda and her mom! How could you—”
Before he could finish, I slapped him hard. “Stay in your lane, Robert. You don’t get to talk here.”
He stood there, frozen, clutching his cheek like I’d just shattered his worldview. His stunned silence was satisfying. Gripping Rambo’s leash, I strolled into the living room like I owned the place—because, well, I did.
Front and center on the wall was a huge, tacky portrait of Brenda. My stuff? Completely gone, erased like I never existed.
The audacity.
In my last life, it was obvious Brenda and her mom had pulled out all the stops for this birthday party.
Standing on my toes, I ripped the portrait off the wall and let it crash to the floor. “Robert!” I shouted. “Burn this trash. You’ve got five minutes. If it’s still here after that, you’re all out.”
A group of household staff gathered, whispering and glaring, but none of them moved.
