The words Cora and Oliver had said to her days ago - words she had dismissed as ridiculous posturing at the time - were suddenly echoing in her head with a clarity that felt almost physical.
"We will come to your wedding."
They had said it so confidently. So calmly. As though it were a certainty rather than a claim that required proof.
And Penelope had laughed.
Had mocked them privately with her friends. Had treated it as a pathetic attempt by people without real status to insert themselves into an event where they did not belong.
But now?
Now she was standing in the VIP section of one of the most exclusive stores in the city, watching those same two people receive treatment that she herself had never experienced despite all her family's wealth and connections, and the ground beneath her understanding of social hierarchy felt like it was shifting in ways she could not control.
*What the hell is going on?*
