|Casmira's POV|
The sharp knock at my penthouse door rattles me from my thoughts. I check the time on my phone—7:30 PM. Unannounced visitors at this hour rarely mean anything good.
Pulling my silk robe tighter around me, I pad to the door and peer through the peephole. My stomach drops.
Uncle Roland and Aunt Clarisse.
Forcing my face into a polite mask, I unlock the door and pull it open. "Uncle, Aunt," I greet flatly, stepping aside to let them in.
Roland strides in like he owns the place, his sharp, calculating eyes sweeping over the modern interiors as though he's assessing my worth with every glance. Clarisse follows, her chin lifted in the practiced arrogance of someone who married into money and never lets you forget it.
"You could at least pretend to be happy to see us, Casmir
