Chloe’s POV
I had barely taken three steps toward the quieter corridor when I felt her presence.
Margaret.
She didn’t announce herself. She never did. She appeared like she owned the space, heels clicking softly against the marble floor, posture perfect, chin lifted. The music from the hall was muffled here, replaced by low lighting and silence thick enough to suffocate.
I stopped walking.
I didn’t turn immediately. I already knew why she was here.
“So,” she said coldly behind me. “This is what you do.”
I turned slowly to face her.
Her eyes were burning. Not rage yet. Something sharper. Disgust mixed with jealousy she would never admit to.
“You show up uninvited,” she continued, stepping closer, “dress like temptation itself, and sit there like you own what isn’t yours.”
“I was
