At a quiet corner of the room, Penelope sat stiffly in her chair.
Her hands clutched the edge of the table, and a half-empty plate of food sat untouched in front of her.
She wasn't hungry.
If anything, she felt sick to her stomach, her face was carefully made up, her dress perfect, but inside, she was boiling.
She had come tonight expecting to see Abigail fall flat.
She had been so sure of it.
After everything—the scandals, the broken engagement, the messy rumors—surely Abigail wouldn't be able to recover, let alone secure that massive investment tied to her mother's company.
Penelope had convinced herself that Abigail would embarrass herself.
That the investors would laugh quietly and pull away, leaving Abigail with nothing but shame.
But that wasn't what happened, Instead, Abigail had somehow—miraculously—turned it all around.
She had won them over.
She had secured the investment Penelope thought was impossible.
