Sherman even spread his hands out, and Rita could clearly see disdain in his eyes. At that moment, she felt embarrassed to the point of wanting to flee from the office. She could handle rejection but not be looked down on by others-especially by someone like Sherman whom she had briefly held in high regard.

Rita grabbed her bag and stood up abruptly. "Thank you for reminding me, Mister Sherman. You've taught me to see things clearly. Otherwise, I might have mistaken you as my friend after our conversation tha night. Since you're unwilling to grant me the interview, I won't bother you anymore. I wish you and Miss Claire a lifetime of happiness."

With that, she left Sherman's office without looking back, leaving him bewildered. 'Wasn't she the one at fault? How did she manage to make it seem like I'm the one at fault here?'

She had projected such strength in front of Sherman, but as soon as she was alone in the elevator, Rita lowered her head in dismay. She could not even force a smile at that point. "Why? Why is everyone picking on me? Do I look like a pushover?"

Rita laughed bitterly. It was true; she was the easiest one to bully in the office. After all, she was the only newcomer in the entire entertainment department. Still, did that mean she had no choice but to endure this kind of treatment?

Rita was starting to miss her father. While it was true she had to deal with Karen and Sadie if she were to go back home, the longing for the sense of security her father provided pushed her longing to the peak Thus, she immediately drove back home. Karen and Sadie be damned.

she entered the mansion, she noticed something was amiss. The halls and corridors were adorned with numerous paintings. Her late mother had always been fond of art; she intentionally collected many pieces in hopes of building

since young, but unfortunately, she had no interest in pursuing that path. A painting she made of their family of three hung prominently in the center of their home's hallway since her childhood, even though her mother

moment, that spot was occupied

find the doodle, she did not even bother to question Karen, who was leisurely drinking mulled wine prepared by the maid on the couch. Rita searched the entire corridor and even the hallway, but still

she still had to maintain the facade of being a caring stepmother. Thus, she walked

her. All she cared about at that moment was finding

her eyes

rude

not surprising since

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