Leah
Martha’s face drained of color so fast it looked like someone had sucked the life out of her. She stared at the white fox cloak crumpled on the marble floor like it had personally betrayed her.
“Leah White,” she hissed, voice trembling with barely contained rage, “what do you mean by throwing my gift on the ground like trash?”
The room held its breath. That cloak wasn’t just expensive—it was a deliberate humiliation, a heavy, ostentatious thing meant to make me look ridiculous next to Ella’s sleek elegance. Martha had expected me to wear it, squirm under the laughter, and thank her for the “kindness.” Instead, I’d turned it into a weapon.
Before I could answer, Agnes’s voice cut through the tension, sharp with surprise.
“Leah… your hand.”
I lifted it slowly, palm up. Several cri
