Cynthia POV

Sinacore’s cold, dismissive attitude gnawed at me like a thorn lodged deep in my heart. The way he looked at me, the disdain in his voice when he made that comment, it all stirred up memories I’d buried long ago.

It wasn’t just his indifference that hurt—it was the painful familiarity of it all. His words echoed the taunts I’d heard as a child, the sneers from classmates who knew my mother was an alcoholic, the whispers from neighbors who pitied the poor ...