The silence in the dining room has weight. It's that awkward, heavy kind that doesn't leave space for chewing or breathing or pretending things are normal. Mrs. Castell's hand rests on the stem of her glass like she's squeezing the truth out of it. The light reflects on her rings.
"If Sierra says she has evidence, then by all means, go fetch it," she says, without looking at Heidi. "Let's all be enlightened. I despise rumors. If your story holds, darling, bring your proof."
Sierra's lips stretch into a grin that could slice a throat. "Of course, Mother." She turns toward the door, hips swaying in fake elegance, like she's performing for the help. "Just a few minutes."
Heidi's stomach knots.
Her wolf shifts uneasily inside her, pacing. "She's planning something," the wolf mutters. "The brat's about to pull a trick so cheap it smells like desperation."
