The gasps that rippled through the lobby was music to Diana's ears. She sat back against the silk pillow in her wheelchair, basking in the wide-eyed stares of her friends.
"Divorcing?" Beatrice breathed, clutching her diamond necklace. "Diana, is this true?"
"Tragically, yes," Diana sighed, her voice dripping with fake, theatrical sorrow. She leaned forward, lowering her voice as if she were sharing a state secret, though she ensured it was loud enough for the entire circle to hear.
"They aren't even sleeping in the same room," Diana spilled the tea, shaking her head. "They haven't spoken a single word to each other. My brother completely cut her off. The marriage is in shambles."
The socialites exchanged thrilled, scandalous glances. They were eating it up. A billionaire divorce was the equivalent of the Super Bowl for these women.
