Chapter 7: Nowhere and Everywhere

When I woke up, sunlight streaked the pale carpet. The Whitmore house looked straight out of a magazine—maids lined up in perfect rows, uniforms crisp, hair tucked neat under caps. There was a dusty Ohio State pennant on the wall, a bowl of stale Halloween candy on the counter, and the faint sound of a country song leaking from someone’s phone.

Everything sparkled—silks, satins, jewelry everywhere. The air smelled of lemon polish and money. Family photos lined the walls—everyone smiling, but none of them looked like me. I felt a surge of hope, thinking maybe these people cared. My fingers itched to touch everything, to prove this was real.

But the floating comments brought me back to earth:

[Girl, wise up. If your mom cared, she wouldn’t have let you get sold.]

[Zoey set you up, but they’re still acting like it’s all love and light.]

[If Grant hadn’t stepped in, you’d be married off to some guy off the street by now.]

The happiness I’d felt a second ago vanished. The jewelry in my hands lost its shine. I put them down, heart heavy.

A maid barged in without knocking, her voice sharp as a slap: "Miss, Mr. Whitmore’s home. Mrs. Whitmore wants you downstairs, now."

I looked up, heart pounding, bracing for whatever came next, the weight of this new world pressing in from every side.