?Chapter 507: Harlee, with deliberate slowness, positioned herself in the drivers seat and left the door ajar.


    As Etta moved toward the passenger side, Harlee halted her abruptly.


    Etta, did I ever say you could get in the car? Did you ask if you could? Ettas expression stiffened, and she retraced her steps to her original position.


    Harlee, Im sorry.


    Did I presume too much again? I thought… Again? Harlees voice was cold as she mmed the car door, her tonemanding.


    Though Im in a good mood today, lets make one thing clear.


    You have no right to use that tone with me! Youre merely a maids daughter living under the Sanderson familys charity, not by blood rtion! Harlees gaze was haughty, filled with scorn as she faced Etta.


    You have no reason to y the victim here! You live in a vi, have money at your disposal, and even a driver to chauffeur you.


    What grievances can a maids daughter possibly have? And dont remind me about the past decades youve spent with the Sandersons.


    Find your next read at g?lnσν?????s If it werent for my parents generosity, youd likely be crammed in a dpidated apartment! Understand this, Etta.


    Youre nothing more than a maids daughter.


    Stop pretending to be something youre not! Ettasplexion drained of color, her eyes igniting with a fierce blend of rage and resentment.


    The sharp retort she yearned to hurl at Harlee lodged in her throat as she caught sight of Harlees icy demeanor.


    Memories of the influential visitors who had supported Harlee the previous evening tempered her fiery impulse, silencing her bitter words before they could escape.


    Harlee ignited the engine, smoothly switched gears, and nonchntly tapped the handbrake button.


    She cast a sidelong nce at Etta, noting her ashen face.


    With a barely perceptible arch of her brow, Harlee posed a simple question, her voice cool and detached.


    Am I wrong? Etta parted her lips, a rebuttal teetering on the brink of utterance, yet she found herself voiceless.


    Harlees assertions, though stark, rang undeniably true.


    As the daughter of a maid, she was painfully reminded of her ce, forbidden from wielding tricks against someone of Harlees standing, an unrelenting and unforgiving reality.


    If not for the Sanderson family, she would be weathering life in a dpidated rental rather than the luxury of the vi, a truth as cold and hard as the walls that housed her.


    Just as Etta wrestled with her pride and her perceived contributions, which now seemed utterly misguided, Sk appeared.


    She approached, bearing a steaming cup of milk intended for Harlee.


    Etta clung to the fragile hope that Sk, who had clearly witnessed Harlees tant bullying, would step in to defend her.


    But instead, Sk walked over with an unsettling calm and silently handed the milk to Harlee, as if nothing had happened.


    Tears welled in Ettas eyes, her heart plummeting.


    She had noticed Sk lurking in the shadows before, prompting her to adopt a more pitiful facade in hopes of gaining an ally.


    But now, it was painfully clear.


    Her hopes were misced.


    Disappointment settled over Etta like a heavy weight.


    She wasnt just ignored, but humiliated.


    The truth was ring.


    Nobody wanted to deal with someone as unbearable as her.


    Sk passed a ss of milk to Harlee, watching her sip it before tenderly brushing her hair aside.


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