substitute
“Does it bother you that they treat you as nothing more than a substitute?” Chelle asked apropos of nothing as they walked, the gravel crunching persistently underfoot. She didn’t need to clarify who “they” were.
Once, Jolie would have bristled at the question, because once, yes, it did bother her. It bothered her that she was the eldest, yet was tossed callously aside the moment Marceline turned nine and it became clear that the only thing their mother and father cared about was advancing the bloodline.
They certainly weren’t interested in being parents. Which was why Jolie was the substitute.
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