Without A Degree

The crushing silence at the dining table stretched infinitely as Sloane's revelation about the blocked phone call hung heavy in the air. The Sinclair family was left utterly paralyzed, trapped by their own documented cruelty. Without waiting for their hypocritical excuses or any hollow apologies to fill the dead space, Sloane methodically scooped up another bite of her plain macaroni. She chewed slowly and deliberately, swallowing every single morsel until her plate was nearly clean, deliberately leaving only the pale green stalks of celery behind.

Setting her utensils down with a quiet clink, Sloane stood up smoothly. "I am done eating," she announced in a perfectly detached voice.

The sudden movement broke the spell that had frozen the room. Sheer panic seized Eleanor's features. The matriarch scrambled to her feet, desperate to keep her daughter from leaving. As she moved, her heavy wooden chair scraped violently and jarringly against the dining room floor.

*Screech.*

The harsh, grating sound ripped through the quiet dining room. It acted as an immediate, agonizing trigger for Sloane, sending severe tremors shooting through her hands. It was a visceral, inescapable sensory echo of the metallic, abrasive abuse she had endured daily in the prison cafeteria. The memory of batons slamming against steel tables and the horrific clamor of fights breaking out flooded her senses. Fighting a massive, overwhelming urge to sprint out of the room to safety, Sloane rigidly lowered her gaze to the floor.

She forced her voice to remain perfectly calm and robotic, masking the internal storm. "I will come back."

Without uttering another syllable, she swiftly walked out of the suffocating environment. She left the stunned Sinclairs sitting alone with their guilt, the weight of her words still crushing them.

Once she was safely outside the oppressive walls of the Sinclair villa, the cool air hit her face. Sloane checked her cracked, outdated phone. The screen flickered before a new text message glowed brightly on the screen, providing an address for a job interview she desperately needed to secure any semblance of independence.

A profound sense of alienation washed over her as she stared at the unfamiliar location. Three years locked in a cage had left her glaringly out of step with the rapid pace of the modern world. Everything felt disconnected and strange. Lacking the funds for a taxi, she had no choice but to endure an exhausting forty-minute walk just to reach the nearest bus stop.

The subsequent ride through the city was disorienting and confusing. Sloane sat rigidly, staring blankly out the smudged window of the bus as the urban landscape blurred past her. Suddenly, a sleek, gleaming BMW rolled past her in the opposite lane.

Inside the luxury vehicle, Sloane clearly spotted Julian. His body was turned attentively toward a sweetly smiling Chloe in the passenger seat, oblivious to the rest of the world. Sloane looked away instantly. Her face settled into an entirely emotionless mask, purposefully burying any residual sting of abandonment. They were living the high life while she was clinging to survival.

Navigating the bustling downtown streets proved to be deeply alien and overwhelming to her. The sheer volume of people and the maze of intersections were daunting. It took a series of awkward, frustrating trial-and-error attempts with her laggy phone's map application before she finally found her bearings. Eventually, she stood before the towering, intimidating glass structure of the corporate office building.

Inside, the environment was immediately hostile. The gleaming lobby felt cold and uninviting. The front desk receptionist was immediately dismissive and deeply impatient with Sloane's presence, barely giving her the time of day. However, the receptionist's abrasive tone magically shifted into a sickly-sweet, fawning greeting when a high-ranking executive named Ms. Dunn strutted past the lobby.

Sloane ignored the blatant classism unfolding before her. She headed straight to the designated third-floor interview room, navigating the sterile hallways with practiced indifference.

She barely had the time to sit in the quiet waiting area before the heavy door swung aggressively open. Director Veronica Dunn—the same haughty woman from the lobby—strided into the room, her face twisted in visible annoyance.

Veronica paused, giving Sloane a slow, disgustingly disdainful once-over. Her eyes locked onto Sloane's worn clothes, instantly judging her worth. She sharply demanded to know why Sloane was showing up for an interview at such an odd hour, aggressively pressing her on her college major before Sloane could even speak.

Sloane's brow furrowed slightly. The question struck at the core of her lost potential. Right before being violently thrown into prison, she had received her coveted college acceptance letter, but was robbed of the chance to ever attend. Despite the nightmare of her incarceration, she had spent her time inside mastering advanced university-level coursework through sheer willpower, studying whenever she had a free moment.

Choosing brutal honesty, Sloane looked the director in the eye and answered truthfully. "I did not go to college."

Veronica’s face immediately fell into an ugly sneer. She haughtily declared that her prestigious firm wasn't some no-name company that hires uneducated people off the street. Arrogantly stating she didn't care who sent Sloane, Veronica demanded she get out immediately because there were no shortcuts to be had in her department.

Sloane stood up abruptly. The air around her seemed to drop several degrees. Her eyes were utterly calm yet piercingly cold as they locked onto the furious director. She methodically dismantled the woman's arrogance, stating firmly that a piece of paper wasn't the only proof of ability. She delivered a cutting blow, noting that a company managed by someone so openly hostile wasn't a good fit for her anyway.

Veronica’s face flushed a deep crimson with rage. She raised her hand, drawing a sharp breath to yell at the insolent candidate.

However, before she could erupt, the door swung open once more. Instantly, Veronica's hostile, aggressive demeanor evaporated. It was replaced by a desperate, fawning smile. She practically purred as she greeted the newcomers, apologizing profusely that Mr. Sinclair and Chloe didn't call her so she could escort them personally.

Chloe stepped elegantly into the room, impeccably dressed. Her eyes widened in a masterful display of feigned, innocent surprise as she noticed Sloane standing there.

Chloe immediately weaponized her fake concern, her voice ringing out clearly. She loudly announced that the minimum requirement for the job was a master's degree. She publicly shamed Sloane, deliberately highlighting the fact that Sloane had never even been to college, ensuring everyone in the room heard it.

Pausing for dramatic effect, Chloe gently bit her lip. She looked up at Julian with wide, doe-like eyes, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. "Jules, Sloane doesn't meet the qualifications. Maybe I should give up my spot for her instead."