"What do I think?"
Juliet gazed at Queen with a voice as soft and guileless as her expression.
"Queen, what I think doesn't matter. What matters is—"
She narrowed her eyes slightly before continuing,
"No matter what grievances you hold against me or our parents, don't forget your last name is Bernardo.
You should know what's appropriate to say in front of outsiders—and what isn't."
Her tone was unhurried, almost sisterly in its patient admonishment, as if she were genuinely offering well-meaning advice.
Yet every word was a calculated barb, each sentence tightening the noose.
Grievances against her and their parents?
Was she implying Queen was an outsider now? Queen arched a brow, her lips curling into a mocking smirk.
"Juliet, there's no one else around.
You can drop the saintly act," she drawled, leaning back in her seat and idly twirling her sunglasses between her fingers.
