The upper landing of the Luxor house was dimly lit, casting long shadows over the polished marble floors. Anita leaned casually against the banister, her arms crossed tightly, as she peered down at the living room where servants busily prepared the dinner table. Beside her stood Celia, with an air of barely concealed disdain.
“I tell you, Celia,” Anita whispered, her voice laced with bitterness, “this family was better off before Richard barged back into our lives. His presence has been nothing but a disruption,” she said.
Celia smirked, nodding in agreement. “You’re absolutely right, Aunt Anita. Ever since he came back, it’s been all about him. The perfect heir, the perfect businessman, the golden child. It’s nauseating,” she said.
Anita let out a harsh chuckle. “I wish he’d never be
