Claimed And Marked By Her Stepbrother Mates - Chapter 80

Chapter 80: 80-Character Assassination

Helanie:

After he left and I threw up, I went to bed to rest. Honestly, I wasn’t feeling well. My head was pounding, and everything around me seemed to spin.

The thought of being accused once again of something I didn’t do had taken a toll on me. On top of that, the embarrassment of accidentally flashing Norman and finding out what people back at the pack had been saying about me just added to the mix.

The next day felt different. I refused to sit around doing nothing. I needed a job. Emmet had covered my admission fees and other expenses, but he couldn’t pay for everything. I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was using them or that I relied on their money.

“Hello, I was looking for a job and heard that this pack doesn’t require any specific qualifications for hiring–” I tried to speak softly to the woman behind the counter.

It was a small café, and I felt surprisingly comfortable there. The moment I stepped in, I just knew I could work here.

However, while she was all smiles with the other customers, her expression changed the moment she looked at me, hardening.

“A rogue?” she raised an eyebrow. She appeared to be in her late forties, with piercing blue eyes and short, curly blonde hair.

“Yes,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I saw the ad, and it said even rogues are welcome to work here.”

I didn’t want to anger her, but something in her energy felt off, almost like she was silently judging me.

“How old are you?” she asked, and I straightened my posture before replying.

“Eighteen.”

“Why are you a rogue?” For someone whose ad welcomed rogues, she was asking some pretty tough questions.

“Umm–my father didn’t want me after he divorced my mother,” I explained, noticing her head tilt slightly.

“Where is your mother?” She tapped her fingers on the counter, making me feel anxious, as if I were being evaluated. I noticed her name tag, Benita, and then took a deep breath.

“She moved on and wanted me to start my own life. Anyway, I’ve been accepted into the Vortex Academy,” I added quickly, noticing her expression shift. There was now a hint of respect on her face.

“Oh, why didn’t you say that before? Welcome aboard,” she said, quickly removing the plank to let me in.

“So, what can you do?” she asked, placing a hand on my back and giving it a quick pat.

“Um, pretty much anything. I can bake really well,” I replied, glancing at the menu. It was full of baked goods, and I had done a lot of baking back when I lived with my father.

“Great! But can you manage time? No offense, but we don’t usually get a red-jacket holder coming here to ask for work.”

“If you’re a rogue, how did you manage the admission fee? That academy isn’t cheap,” she continued, and I felt my chest tighten.

“It was just luck, I guess,” I lied, noticing her look a little dissatisfied.

“But can you commit? The café requires workers to be here from nine to five,” she said, folding her arms as I looked off into the distance.

“Um, is there any way I could do shorter shifts?” I asked, and she shrugged before shaking her head.

“You know what–actually, it’s fine. We’re not hiring right now. But I’ll let you know if we have any openings in the future.” Her tone had changed abruptly. She was now on her phone, acting as though she hadn’t just invited me behind the counter a moment ago.

“Um, is this about the admission fee?” I ventured, trying to understand what had triggered her sudden disinterest.

“You know where you got the money from,” she replied coldly. “A girl wearing an old dress, looking like she hasn’t been eating well, somehow pays for a pricey academy and then comes here looking for a job for rogues?” I noticed her expression and realized what she was implying.

“We don’t really hire *those* kinds of girls. You should stick to whatever job paid you that admission fee,” she said, outright accusing me. Before I could defend myself, she added, “I remember seeing you on a bike with some guy a few weeks ago. You were headed to your job.”

The way she said it made my face go pale. My cheeks flushed as I recalled that night.

She must have seen me with Lamar. That’s why she thinks I’m some sort of escort, assuming that’s how I paid for my admission.

“And you’re probably wondering how I remember you?” she continued, her eyes narrowing. “When a girl who looks like a porcelain doll, with long light ash blonde hair and gorgeous eyes, heads to a place like that, trust me, we remember. I remember thinking, *Wow! That guy’s getting a huge commission for bringing in such a doll.*”

I didn’t know whether to feel flattered by her “compliment” or mortified that she recognized me from that night.

It was sad that anyone who got to know me seemed to think of me as some girl who was either sleeping around or doing whatever she could to get a man’s help.

“Okay, thank you for the assumption, but I don’t work there, and I’ve never worked there,” I said, and then I left. I couldn’t keep dealing with people judging me.

I was desperate for money, but not that desperate anymore. When I initially agreed to work for Lamar, it was because I was devastated and lost. Even now, as lost as I feel, I know that if I try, I can do anything. And I will.

I walked out and returned to the hotel. Sitting down, I held the pen in my hand and looked at the papers in front of me.

Why hadn’t I signed them already?

Was it because I was hesitant to accept my mate as my stepbrother?

And what about Kaye? He hadn’t checked on me since that last time.

With a heavy heart, realizing that my life isn’t like everyone else’s and that I need to focus on my goals first, I signed the papers.