Bianca's back remained unnervingly stiff as the car rolled over the gravel.
The darkened windows caught in the sunlight, slick and flawless. Not a single smudge, not a single imperfection. Everything in this world had to be immaculate. Her parents would never be seen with a mark—not on their names, not on their clothes, not even on their damn car.
A guard opened the rear door. Bianca's spine stiffened further, as though the slightest bend might betray her.
Her mother stepped out first. The sharp click of heels against the gravel announced her arrival before she even came into view. Her blonde hair glistened under the sunlight, perfectly styled, as if each strand had been choreographed into place. The cold blue of her eyes scanned the world with practiced indifference.
Her fat
