CLARABEL'S POV

"Informed?" She let out a soft, tittering laugh, ignoring my greeting and stepping closer. The scent of her perfume was overwhelming—cloyingly sweet and expensive. 

"How formal. I suppose as a... guest... you feel the need to keep up appearances. It must be so taxing, trying to prove your worth every day just to keep a roof over your head."

The word guest was delivered with a sharp, arrogant edge. It was a hint that in her eyes, I was temporary. A stray he had taken in. For some reason, I felt the the need to defend myself, probably because her words reminded me of those of Monica.

"I...