Despise and Despair

01. A Rich Pigs Way.

• • • • I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did writing it. • • • • 

• • • Welcome to Despise and Despair • • •

• • Book one in the Despair series • •

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•••• IMPORTANT: Please read ••••

• I have begun working on rewriting this story, which has resulted in many of the inline comments being removed. Updates may be slow, but I'll get there. 

This story is my pride and joy.

Thank you for your patience; I love you all <3

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London, England, during the 1800s.

An older woman walked around me with her head held high as if I was contagious. Her eyes, the colour of chocolate, never met mine, but her disgust was obvious. Unfortunately, some wealthy people look down on those who are less fortunate, as if they are inferior. They care only about themselves and don't consider the feelings of others.

I resisted the urge to kick mud on her beautiful dress. Which would cost more than my own dress; it was a hand-me-down from my Aunt.

My eyes finally locked with hers. The woman scoffed and said, "Pathetic." Then hurried down the street away from me.

"Go to hell," I mumbled under my breath. Not even a second later, someone slapped the back of my head; the impact wasn't hard but enough to make me wince. "What?"

"Olivia! Language!" My step-aunt scowled at me, fixing her rings on the hand she had just slapped me with. "If you want them to respect you, you must respect them first."

I roll my eyes at her words. That was always her answer: 'To gain respect, one must earn it first.' However, the majority of the rich and wealthy won't respect someone such as me simply because I am not the lady everyone expects me to be. That path is full of lies and despair. I was never meant to wear expensive clothes or complain when it rained, creating puddles that would ruin perfect lady shoes.

"Whatever."

"Drop the attitude, young lady. You will succeed in getting this assistant position your Uncle has graciously recommended you for. It is not every day women are accepted in these jobs; therefore, you will do your uttermost best to impress Mr Ross Stafford. Do I make myself clear?"

Guess what? My step-aunt married my Uncle after I witnessed both of my parents getting robbed and then murdered just outside of London. I was six years old at the time. She only married him for his money; he's the top editor of London's Newspaper.