“She’s not like us,” Eleanor whispered to a trusted friend. “She’ll be gone by next week.” The sentence landed like a slap. Richard muttered something about giving it time, but Eleanor’s response was ice-cold. “Time won’t change bloodlines.”
Mia stood frozen, her hands trembling. For a moment, she considered confronting her, but what would it change? Instead, she returned to her seat, smiling politely as toasts were made and laughter resumed. The feud had already begun, even if no one else saw it.