Gone.
“Harleigh,” Sabrina’s usual harsh greeting made me bristle, but I swallowed the urge to bite back at her as I joined her in the kitchen.
I’d tried it once, in the early days of being here, and she’d almost cracked enamel, gritting her teeth at me like a caged animal.
If there was one thing Sabrina Delacorte-Rowe did not tolerate, it was a lack of respect.
If you asked me, she needed to remove the giant stick from up her ass. But when you had more money than sense, it gave you license to treat people like objects apparently. Although I was pretty sure she treated most of her expensive vases and favorite sculptures far more delicately than she did her own children.
“Good morning,” I said flatly.
“Were you out on the roof terrace again last night?”
“I didn’t know it was a problem with me going up there.”
“It isn’t. But you really should tidy up after yourself.”
“I didn’t—”
“Harleigh.” She let out an indignant sigh, scowling at me. “You need to try to fit in here. I know things haven’t been… easy, but you are a part of this family now and I expect you to cooperate.”
Cooperate.
I detested that word.
A word the staff at Albany Hills loved to band around.
We need you to cooperate, Harleigh.
Do you feel like cooperating today, Miss Maguire?
You know, Harleigh, this would go an awful lot easier if you just cooperated.
I shook off those memories: the voices, the intrusive dark thoughts, and centered myself with a therapeutic breath. Inhale slow and deep through my nose, hold, and exhale slowly through my mouth.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
In through the nose, out through the—
“Harleigh?” Sabrina clicked her fingers and I blinked.
“S-sorry, I’m a little tired.” I yawned for effect.
“So… will you?” She glowered at me.
“Will I what?”
“Cooperate. Will you try to fit in here and cooperate, Harleigh? Really,” she muttered, “it’s like talking to a brick wall.”
Brick wall. Nice.
Although she had a point. But I couldn’t help it. Sabrina wasn’t interested in my diagnosis. In her eyes, it was a cry for attention.
I could see myself, staring at her, gawking. Wondering what made her so… so cold. Was it something that happened in her past? Were her parents as absent as mine had been? Did she grow up desperate for attention? Craving affection? Did she—
“Harleigh.” She slammed her hand down on the counter, making the fruit in the crystal bowl clatter.
Flinching, I forced out, “Cooperate, right. Got it.” I ran a hand through my lifeless brown hair.