JULIA
Heather really must have invited the entire city.
I tightened my grip on the clutch in my hand, glancing over the group of people spilling across the mansion’s sprawling garden.
It was amazing that someone knew so many people. I didn’t even have these many friends on my social media!
However, what was more amazing was the space. The place should have been cramped, but the Astor’s estate was designed to fit crowds that could fill a stadium.
Instead of chaos, the scene looked like a magazine spread. Fairy lights were strung between towering oaks, champagne flutes glinting in the golden light, and impeccably dressed guests mingling like they owned the world.
Their laughter was also a familiar tune. It was the sound of rich people laughing—the borderline fake one that you hear
