POV: Lydia
The invitation arrives without a message.
No greeting.
No explanation.
Just a cream envelope delivered by hand while I’m finishing a meeting with Adrian’s communications team.
The paper is thick. Expensive. Old-fashioned enough to signal intention rather than courtesy.
I already know who sent it before I open it.
Victoria Hale does nothing casually.
Inside is a single line.
Tea. Four o’clock. Hale Residence.
Not a request.
A summons.
I stare at the card for a long moment.
Across the room, the PR director keeps talking about media sentiment and investor confidence, but her voice fades into background noise.
This isn’t social.
This is a strategy.
And declining would be interpreted as a sign of weakness.
I slide the card back into the envelope.
“I’ll be unavailabl
