Chapter 8 – A World Against Me

The next morning, I woke up with a new sense of purpose.

If my family wanted to cut me off, so be it. I would stand on my own.

I quickly got ready, throwing on the simplest outfit I had—jeans and a plain white shirt. No designer brands, no expensive accessories. Just me, surviving.

As I walked down the grand staircase, I could hear faint laughter coming from the dining room. My parents and Cassandra were already enjoying breakfast, acting as if nothing had happened last night.

I stepped inside, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket.

Cassandra smirked the moment she saw me. "Oh, look who’s still here. I thought you’d run off to your little job already."

I ignored her, taking a bite of the apple.

Mother, on the other hand, didn’t even spare me a glance. "Starting today, you are responsible for your own meals," she said simply. "We won’t be feeding someone who refuses to be part of this family."

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "Got it."

Cassandra clicked her tongue. "You should be grateful, Clarisse. Mom and Dad were so patient with you. But you had to be stubborn, didn’t you?"

I sighed, tired of the same conversation. "Are you done? I have work."

I turned to leave, but my father finally spoke up. "I won’t tolerate disrespect, Clarisse." His voice was deep, cold.

I paused, gripping the apple tighter. "Then stop expecting me to bow down to this family when all you’ve ever done is treat me like an outsider."

A heavy silence filled the room.

Cassandra gasped dramatically. "Oh, wow. Someone’s grown a backbone."

I ignored them and walked out the door, my heart pounding.

I had no idea how hard this road would be, but one thing was certain.

I was never going to let them break me again.

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The morning air was crisp as I stepped outside, but it did little to calm the storm inside me.

I tightened my grip on my bag, feeling the weight of reality settle in.

This was my life now—alone, cut off, unwanted.

But at least it was mine.

The bus stop wasn’t far from our house, but walking there felt strange. I had spent my entire life being driven around in luxury cars, never once thinking about public transportation.

Now, I had no choice.

As I waited, a familiar black car rolled past, slowing down just enough for me to catch Cassandra’s mocking grin through the window.

The window lowered.

"Aw, poor little Clarisse," she cooed, fake sympathy dripping from her voice. "Taking the bus now? How… embarrassing."

I didn’t react.

She pouted. "Oh, come on. At least put up a fight. Where’s that attitude from last night?"

I met her gaze, my voice steady. "I don’t have time for your games, Cassandra."

Her smirk faltered for just a second before she laughed. "You’re boring now."

The car sped off, leaving me standing there with a heavy sigh.

I wouldn’t let her get to me. Not anymore.

Minutes later, the bus arrived, and I stepped inside, finding a seat near the window.

As the city blurred past, I thought about everything I needed to do.

More work hours. Maybe a second job. Saving every peso I earned.

It wouldn’t be easy.

But if surviving meant proving to them—and to myself—that I didn’t need them…

Then I would fight for it.

The bus ride was quieter than I expected. People came and went, lost in their own worlds, and for the first time, I felt like just another ordinary person. No more being the forgotten daughter of a wealthy family. No more pretending to belong.

And strangely… it felt freeing.

As I got off the bus near the café, I inhaled deeply. The scent of coffee and fresh bread filled the air, mixing with the early morning buzz of the city.

This was my new reality now.

Pushing open the door, I was met with the familiar warmth of the small shop. The soft hum of chatter, the gentle clinking of cups—it was a stark contrast to the coldness of my home.

"Clarisse!" Mia, my coworker, called out as she wiped down a table. "You’re early today."

I forced a small smile. "Figured I might as well start the day productively."

Mia grinned. "That’s the spirit. We could use the extra hands anyway. It’s been crazy busy lately."

I nodded, grabbing an apron and tying it around my waist. I needed the distraction, needed something to focus on other than the mess my life had become.

But just as I stepped behind the counter, the door chimed again.

And when I turned around, my stomach twisted.

Standing there, looking completely out of place among the scent of coffee and pastries, was him.

Brandon.

My ex-fiancé.

The man who had once promised me forever, only to throw me aside like I was nothing.

Our eyes met, and for the first time since my world fell apart, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face the past.

My breath caught in my throat.

Brandon.

Of all the people I didn’t want to see, he was at the top of the list.

He looked exactly the same—tall, effortlessly handsome in his crisp button-down and expensive watch. The type of man who belonged in high-end restaurants, not a small café like this.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, surprise flashing across his face.

"Clarisse," he said, his voice smooth, familiar.

My hands instinctively curled into fists, but I forced myself to stay calm. I wasn’t the same desperate girl who once clung to him, begging for love.

"Brandon," I replied evenly, grabbing a rag and pretending to wipe down the counter. Anything to make it seem like his presence didn’t shake me.

He took a step closer, his gaze scanning me like he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "I heard you moved out."

I scoffed. "News travels fast, huh?"

Brandon sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Cassandra told me."

Of course, she did.

I refused to react, busying myself with rearranging cups. "So? Why are you here?"

He hesitated. "I wanted to see you."

I froze for half a second before quickly masking my emotions. No, not again. He doesn’t get to affect me anymore.

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Why? Feeling guilty?"

Brandon’s jaw tightened. "That’s not what I—"

Before he could finish, Mia popped up beside me, completely oblivious to the tension. "Hey, Clarisse, can you take table five’s order? We’re packed today."

I grabbed a notepad, turning away from Brandon without another word.

This conversation was over.

Whatever reason he had for showing up—I didn’t care.

I had my own life to live now. And he was no longer a part of it.

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