Chapter 2
Imogen sneered. "Sidney, the guy you used to keep? He's a hotshot lawyer now, worth a fortune. He didn't even spare you a glance in court. How does it feel?
"You know why Mr. Wood let you off so easily? Because he thinks you're so cheap, you're not even worth the effort to step on."
Elodie's eyes shot open. She stared at Imogen's flawless makeup, wondering just how satisfying it'd be to slap her across the face.
"Oh, Mr. Wood. It's been ages." Imogen suddenly switched to a sweet, flirty tone.
She quickly fixed her hair, leaned over Elodie's shoulder, and flashed a dazzling smile.
"Want to grab dinner tonight? My boyfriend's been dying to meet you," Imogen said.
Elodie felt all the fight drain out of her.
She didn't even need to turn around to know who was standing behind her.
"Sorry, I've got plans tonight," Sidney replied.
"What a shame," Imogen said.
Imogen feigned a playful pout, then changed the subject in a heartbeat.
"We were just catching up with Ms. Dawson. Did you know? She's really hustling these days. Juggling three jobs at once, and still..." Imogen said.
Elodie's ears buzzed.
She remembered that rainy night five years ago, when Sidney stood outside her apartment, drenched from head to toe.
He was clutching a box of desserts that had gone soggy in the rain, and his eyes were blood-red, as if they were going to bleed.
"Elodie, can you please not give up on me?" he had pleaded.
And now, he was right behind her, listening to others humiliate her.
Elodie said, "You done running your mouth?
"Step aside, will you? I've got another order to deliver."
Elodie shoved her way between them, her shoulder bumping into Imogen's immaculate fancy coat.
Right then, she almost wanted to thank her crumpled delivery uniform. At least rubbing up against something that expensive couldn't make it look any worse.
Elodie kept her head down and hurried off, but Imogen's sugary voice rang out behind her.
"By the way, Mr. Wood, when are you going to introduce us to your fiancée? I heard she's a real heiress," Imogen said.
Elodie didn't catch Sidney's reply, just a faint chuckle, and then he answered.
"She gets shy around strangers, so it's kind of tricky," Sidney said.
The rest of the conversation was cut off by the elevator doors sliding shut.
Elodie's hand shook as she pressed the close button. Once the doors slid shut, she finally let herself slide down to the floor.
Her phone buzzed. A new delivery order was auto-assigned: [Pick up your order by 14:30. A fee will be charged for late pickups.]
For the next week, Elodie was like a machine on autopilot.
She stocked shelves at the convenience store from 5 AM to 9 AM, delivered food from 9 AM to 4 PM, and washed dishes at the barbecue joint from 7 PM until the early hours of the morning.
Her life was sliced into tiny, precise fragments, with even sadness becoming a luxury she couldn't afford.
Elodie paid off that one thousand dollars in three installments.
Every time she sent the money, she'd zone out, staring at her phone screen.
On the seventh day, at 2 AM, after closing up at the barbecue joint, the owner called out just as Elodie was about to head out.
"Elodie, don't bother coming in tomorrow," the owner said.
Elodie's fingers, still pruney from scrubbing dishes all night, clenched tight at his words. She froze for a second, stunned.
"Did I do something wrong? I can—" she stammered.
"No, it's not that," the owner said, waving his hand.
"One of my family members is coming to help out. Here's 200 dollars as compensation," he said.
He handed her a few crumpled bills.
Elodie didn't take them.
She knew the real reason. Ever since the news about her "fallen heiress" status broke, nosy people kept coming to the shop to gawk at her.
The owner was worried it would hurt his business.
"I appreciate it, but I'll pass. Thanks for looking out for me," Elodie said.
She gave a quick bow, and as she turned to leave, she heard the owner sigh behind her.
The night wind was chilly as Elodie stood under the bus stop sign, checking her account balance.
Next month's rent was six thousand dollars, and utilities would be around 60 dollars. Whatever was left might scrape by for groceries, if she was lucky and nothing else blew up.
Her phone pinged with a rush order: [2:30 AM, Belleview Gardens. Delivery fee: 30 dollars.]
Elodie stared at that number, lost in thought.
Normally, she'd have to run five orders to make that 30 bucks.