I set my fork down with deliberate slowness.
Looked her right in the eye.
And smiled.
Then, ever so gracefully, I placed my napkin on my lap, refusing to rise to the bait. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Selena?" My voice was smooth, almost lazy, but each word landed like a dagger. "After all, that is all you do."
A gasp rippled through the nearby tables.
Yesterday I had been meek because I didn't want to disappoint dad but today he has given me a chance and a touch of power.
"How dare you?!" Selena's shriek was immediate, her face twisting with fury.
I lifted a brow, unimpressed. "Please, leave me be. This is not your place to make noise," I warned, my tone effortlessly condescending.
Selena's eyes burned, but before she could claw back some dignity, her mother, Mariela, chimed in, her voice as soft as silk but laced with steel. "Girls, let's not argue. This is a celebration, after all."
Her gaze, however, lingered on me—assessing, weighing, searching for a crack.
