"Celeste Simmons, Effie didn't do it on purpose. Just go grab yourself a chair. There's no need to make her feel bad about it."
Always the same.
Patrick always sided with Effie. Completely. Unconditionally.
But the strange thing was—I genuinely felt nothing.
I couldn't even understand why I'd once fought my sister so bitterly over him.
"Mr. Stephens, I haven't said a single word yet."
Patrick blinked.
In the past, my eyes would've already been red. I would've been screaming, calling Effie a manipulative little snake.
"Sis, you're upset."
Effie's eyes glistened as she stepped forward and grabbed my hand. "Please don't be angry. I'll go get you a chair."
She turned to fetch one, but Patrick caught her wrist and pulled her back.
He looked down at me.
"This is the Stephens house. Not a place for you to throw your weight around.
"If you don't want to get your own chair, then don't bother eating."
A few of the staff couldn't hold back their laughter.
I heard someone whisper, "Just watch. She'll go grab that chair herself, tail wagging."
"Oh, please. She'd swallow any insult just to sit a little closer to him."
"No need."
I let out a quiet laugh.