"Adrian. Adrian." His mother's voice cut through his thoughts. "Are you listening to me?"
"What is it, Mom?" he asked distractedly.
Miranda's gaze snapped toward the room. "Why is Lena dressed so horribly?" she said, lowering her voice but not her disdain. "She is pregnant and squeezing herself into clothes like that. How unsightly. Everyone in this room can probably tell the exact shape of her breasts. It is distasteful."
Lena appeared behind them, her smile already strained. "Me, distasteful?" she snapped. "Have you seen your outfit, Miranda? You act like you are better than me, but those women were just talking about how your shiny diamonds do not even match."
Miranda gasped. "You think a whore like you could ever—"
"Stop," Adrian hissed sharply. "Are you both serious right now?"
They fell quiet, both visibly bristling, both furious in different ways.
And then his eyes lifted.
Across the room, he saw her.
