The Dinner That Wasn’t a Celebration
I planned a dinner at the estate.
Charles and his children arrived polished, smiling, confident.
They believed I was cornered.
They believed the groundwork was so deep I’d never claw my way out.
They were half right.
Groundwork had been laid.
Just not by them.
Midway through dinner, I told them I had invited a few guests.
The surprise didn’t bother them at first—until they saw who walked in.
Mara.
