Amelia
The dinner progressed, each course more tense than the last. The conversation shifted between pack business and pointed remarks about the benefits of joining the two families. I moved mechanically, serving and clearing, trying to make myself as invisible as possible.
Then came dessert, a delicate chocolate soufflé that the chef had spent hours perfecting. As I placed the dish before Mary, she turned suddenly, bumping my arm. The soufflé wobbled, then collapsed in on itself, the perfect dome deflating into a sad puddle.
"Oh!" Mary exclaimed with false concern. "Look what she's done!"
All eyes turned to me. The room fell silent. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.
My cheeks burned. My throat tightened. My heart thudded against my ribs like a trapped bird. I stared at the
