With Emily's immediate acceptance of the seat at the extreme end of the table—isolated and far from everyone else as if she were an outcast, the meal began in earnest.
For Emily, it was just a ritual and a challenge. For anything she wanted to witness every scheme and every plot of the Sterling family.
Yet she couldn't suppress the bitter aftertaste of every spoon scooped into her mouth as they clung to her tongue.
The Winters' home had been far from perfect, but at least its mealtimes were calmer. Peaceful, even. Here, the tension was suffocating.
At most, she would be glared at but at the Sterling's family, it is a whole new level.
The tension at the Sterling dining table had been suffocating—daggers in every smile, insults disguised as etiquette, and every pair of eyes looking at her with disgust, mocking and taunting like she was a stain on a marble.
