65:
Maria went back to the living room with a bright, forced smile plastered on her face, ready to smooth things over after her daughter's bitchiness dramatic exit. She needed Beatrice at her side, especially after that embarrassing scene. But as she walked in, she froze. Allen was talking to Beatrice! Her son. Her cold, aloof, practically allergic-to-small-talk son was sitting there, engaging in actual conversation. She blinked, wondering if she had stepped into some alternate reality. What in the world had Beatrice done to him? Allen never talked to any of their visitors, let alone someone like her, he hates rich people. Maria’s eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping up her spine. Beatrice looked entirely too comfortable, and Allen… he wasn’t giving her that usual distant, polite nod he reserv
- Writer
