Miranda had always been a meticulous woman. She had spent most of her life hovering just below middle class, watching luxury from the outside and telling herself it was something she would never touch. Then her son struck it big with a naive girl who came with more money than sense, and suddenly the world cracked open for her.
She had watched wealth from a distance for so long that when it was finally hers to taste, she was more than prepared. But money alone was never enough. Not for high society. Not for the women who did not care how liquid you were or how many designer bags you carried if you had not been born into it.
So Miranda prepared. Carefully. Relentlessly.
And now, with Nova Hart appearing out of nowhere, everything she had worked toward felt closer than it ever had. Miranda was willing to do anything to secure her place. Anything.
She lifted her fork and took a delicate bite, her expression souring instantly.
