After surviving the brutal beating from the extended family, Brinley was bombarded with calls from Felix and Harriet Seabrook. Both of them were aggressively demanding she handle problems she had zero power to solve.
Felix had screamed over the phone that Fairfax was launching a scorched-earth campaign against the Fowler family businesses. He demanded she find a way to stop him.
She couldn't. It was utterly impossible.
They were all forcing her to the edge, demanding miracles from a broken woman. She was drained, spiraling into total apathy.
"Well, look at the princess. We've got a mountain of chores, and what exactly are you doing in here?"
Sally had come down to the basement for a glass of water and immediately scowled upon seeing Brinley idle. Sally's own suffering and increased workload were directly tied to Brinley's presence, leaving her with zero sympathy.
"Get up and get to work! We need to finish early tonight. If you don't do your share, all of our workloads will double tomorrow!"
Starla's people were monitoring them relentlessly. If one person slacked off, the remaining staff had to pick up the slack. The labor was already backbreaking; no one could handle more.
Brinley sat on her cot, looking like a hollow shell of a human being. Her face was battered, her hands bruised and scraped.
When she didn't move, Sally grew anxious. "What are you trying to pull? You aren't some rich heiress anymore. Throwing a silent tantrum is pointless!"
Darleen and Xenia had tried rebelling too, and look where it got them. Starla crushed every act of defiance effortlessly.
Brinley let out a dry, cracked laugh. "Rebel? You think I have the strength to rebel?"

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