Eleanor's POV
The motorhome hummed around me, a tinny, insulated sound that did nothing to block out the roaring in my ears.
I was vaguely aware of Mira's voice, sharp and indignant, as she filled in Ben and Liam on the sordid details of my family.
"…and they've been leaching off her for years! That sister is a professional victim, and the ex is a walking red flag…"
My entire world had shrunk to the glowing screen in my hand, a portal to my own public execution. How could I possibly turn this around? Yes, I'd dragged Dickson out.
But only after he'd shown up uninvited, refusing to leave, and harrassing me. The public didn't see the constant belittling, the way I'd shrunk myself to fit into the tiny box they demanded I live in.
And Priscilla. Still demanding that she needs my blood for her fake incurable illness.
A sharp tap on my shoulder jolted me from the spiral.
