Once a Doormat, Now Untouchable

Chapter 103 Missy-when they were kids, Julian called her that all the time. Sydney had not spent long in the orphanage or at the Sterling estate, barely a year or two of torment, so her spoiled, pampered temper had not yet been worn away. If Julian showed her even a little kindness, her old habits would resurface quickly. She had been 7 then-sincere yet spoiled, kind yet willful, her heart and her temper equally unrestrained. One summer night, during a thunderstorm, she had crept into his room barefoot, clutching her doll.

Julian, already 13 and deep into puberty, had begun to understand that boys and girls were different. He had frowned and told her to go back to her own room. But little Sydney, spoiled rotten by his care, had darted under his blanket, pulled the thin quilt over her head, and pouted, her voice righteous and firm. "But, Jules, your Precious is scared of thunder! If the thunder strikes, I will die!" Back then, Julian had not told her that only scumbags got struck by lightning.

Instead, he had rubbed his aching temples and muttered, "Missy, I really don't know what to do with you." She had been young, but not dumb. She had heard the indulgence and resignation in his tone. Later, after he cast her aside and she stubbornly decided to marry Caleb, every "Missy" from his lips carried mockery. As if to laugh at her-did she really still think she was the little girl he once cradled in his arms? Did she not know her own worth? But tonight, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe something else. Somehow, she heard a trace of that old warmth in his voice again.

his touch burned against her inner wrist. Every nerve in her body strung taut. His scent filled her nose, the faint sandalwood from his cologne. It was the same fragrance she had given him on his 18th birthday. Julian had liked it. After that, his shelf held only that one bottle of cologne. Whenever it ran low, she'd quietly

into her and blew away the last of her drunken haze. She sniffed, straightened her back, and shifted to her official, businesslike tone. "Mr. Sterling, that concludes my progress report. I'll be heading home."

them out to the staff in Sydney's department. On her lunch break, Sydney stepped out to use the restroom, only to be met with a crowd of desperate, pleading gazes. Penelope turned with a gracious smile. "Dr.