The Image of You Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Drama, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
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“But you didn’t believe her?”

She shrugged. “I only saw her on occasion when permitted. I heard it from them every day. Sometimes it easier to believe the bad, you know?”

I wondered if she would ever fully believe the truth.

“Tell me more about Elena.”

“She used to have me come and stay with her. She’d tell them it was so she could be sure to keep an eye on me for their sake.” She smiled fondly at some memory. “I always had such a good time with her. We’d eat junk food, go shopping, watch TV, and talk about Ollie. I loved going there, but I never let them know it. I let them think it was like a punishment to me. She played Ronald so well. She’d say and do things, drop hints and make him think he was making a decision about me, when, in fact, she’d put the idea in his head.

“I knew I wanted to be a nurse, to help people. The kindness the nurses had shown me the night Ollie died had always stayed with me. As I grew up, I also knew if Ronald realized I wanted something, he’d make sure I didn’t get it. Elena knew how much I wanted to be a nurse, how I longed to get out of that place and be on my own. She, ah, made it her mission to make sure I got both those things.”

“How?”

For the first time since we started talking, a glimmer of mischief appeared in her eyes. “Oh, she’s crafty. One night at dinner, she demanded to know what my plans were for the future or if I was going to continue to sponge off Ronald. She went on about some gossip she had heard about another family and their daughter—how content she was to do nothing. Ronald hated gossip.”

“You need to choose a career,” she had insisted. “Something honorable, like nursing. That’s a good profession.”

Ally smiled. “She told Ronald they needed to discuss it further. So, I got what I wanted, thanks to her.”

“I like her.”

“She’d like you too.”

“Tell me what happened next.”

“Elena told Ronald it would be good for me to learn responsibility, so I moved out of their house and into a small place close to the university. I had to work to pay for expenses.”

My hands tightened in anger. “You had to work and go to school? Your stepfather is a wealthy man.”

“My tuition was paid, as a loan.” She shook her head and sighed. “I was given an allowance and a place to live, but it wasn’t enough for all my expenses—books, food, and personal needs. The rest I had to cover by working. Ronald felt it would help build character.”

“Selfish, tight-fisted bastard,” I hissed. Not only was he cruel, he wanted to control her and make her miserable.

She shook her head. “No, it was worth it. I liked working, and I had some freedom. I came and went as I pleased. I could eat what I wanted and sleep in if I felt like it. I made sure to keep my grades up, attend every social function my parents expected me to, and tell anyone who asked how Ronald was generously paying for my education.”

“So, what happened after you graduated?”

She frowned for a minute, chewing on her bottom lip. “Elena insisted they have a graduation party for me. Ronald surprised me with the keys to a condo, close to the hospital. He made a big speech in front of all their friends about helping me start my life.” She exhaled heavily. “It was all for show—everyone there was part of their circle, and again, the gift was only to make him look good. I didn’t want either one. But he had me exactly where he wanted me. I had to repay him for the years at school, and the places I could afford were pretty bad, given how expensive Toronto is to live, so I accepted his ‘gift.’”

“It’s not a fucking gift. It’s emotional blackmail.”

“I know, but it’s not forever. Another few years, my debt will be paid, and I can move on. I’ve managed to carve out my own life in between their demands.”

I shot her a quizzical look.

“I work at a job I love, and I live a quiet life. I attend the functions my parents support, have lunch with my mother, no matter how exhausted I am, and have brunch on Sundays with them at their exclusive club. Everyone sees us, the well-adjusted family, eating together. Ronald the benefactor, who forgave his stepdaughter for her role in the death of his son and has supported all her endeavors.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “I hate that part of my life—the parties and required functions. All the fake people.”

“Why do you still do it? You’re on your own now.”


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