I’m Eleanor Vance, the 36-year-old head librarian at the city’s central library.
To my family, whose wealth spans generations, my career choice remains a source of discomfort. Little do they know, my quiet life among the books conceals more than they could imagine.
Immersed in the tranquil sanctuary of my library, I was lost among centuries-old texts when my brother Bradley’s voice unexpectedly pierced the silence.
“Still burying yourself in these old books, Eleanor? Don’t you ever tire of missing out on life?”
His tone, a blend of amusement and criticism, echoed around the secluded rare-book section.
Looking up, I saw him casually leaning against a bookshelf. Dressed sharply in a designer suit, he stood in stark contrast to my simple librarian outfit.
His familiar smirk, unchanged since our childhood, seemed to taunt me silently, an embodiment of his perpetual arrogance.
“Hello, Bradley,” I responded with a composed tone, carefully placing the antique book back into its protective case.
“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he continued, straightening up. “Mom’s worried you’ll make a scene at their anniversary party tonight.”
Bradley scanned the library with evident disdain.
“A librarian in the family. Dad’s still trying to explain that to his friends at the club.”
I’m Eleanor Vance, the 36-year-old head librarian at the city’s central library.
To my family, whose wealth spans generations, my career choice remains a source of discomfort. Little do they know, my quiet life among the books conceals more than they could imagine.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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