Simone’s POV
"Eat your chicken before the grease congeals, Simone," Mother said, her fork tapping the edge of her porcelain plate with a sharp, rhythmic click.
I kept my eyes fixed on the half-eaten breast on my own plate, using the tip of my knife to trace the glistening line of the glaze. The candlelight flickered between us, casting long, wavering shadows across the heavy oak table. "I am not particularly hungry."
"You need your strength," Mother replied, her voice dropping to that low, dangerous register she used when the servants were within earshot. She reached for her wine glass, her fingers wrapping tight around the crystal stem. "Alpha Lincoln expects a full turnout for the ceremony this weekend, and we cannot afford to look like a family in mourning."
"A ceremony we still hav
