On the far side of the city, at the the Hobbs villa, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of expensive hairspray and the frenetic energy of social ambition. Christian Hobbs stood before a floor-to-ceiling vanity mirror, her fingers moving with practiced grace as she adjusted the collar of her silk blouse. She was a vision of understated elegance, yet her reflection revealed a pair of eyes clouded by a lingering, melancholic fog.
Jane Hobbs stood just behind her, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on Christian’s shoulders. She beamed at the reflection, her face radiating a smug, maternal pride. "Look at you," Jane cooed, her voice dripping with calculated honey. "They say a beauty like my daughter shouldn't be hidden away. I wonder which young heir from a top-tier family will be lucky
