"Me time?" Jennifer repeated, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. Her jaw dropped, her mind reeling at the absurdity.
"Yes," Vivienne murmured, finally stepping away from the window. She moved with a slow, deliberate cadence, her silk robe whispering against the plush carpet. "Don't you think I deserve it?"
She walked past the bed, trailing her fingers along the black silk, heading toward the silver ice bucket on the side table.
"I have spent my entire life carrying this family on my back," she continued, her voice calm and rhythmic, contrasting sharply with Jennifer's panic. "I have bled for politics. I have starved for the stock price. I have been a CEO, a politician, a martyr, and a monument to duty."
She reached the table and picked up the heavy bottle of vintage champagne. She poured a small amount into one of the crystal flutes... not a full serving, just a splash.
