Grace's POV
"I've been sitting here for hours, sis. You owe me some compensation," Amara announced.
I gripped my purse tighter, fighting every instinct to scratch the smug expression off my sister's face.
Drawing in a steadying breath, I moved toward my desk where Amara had made herself comfortable in my executive chair, lounging like she owned the place. "That's my chair. Move."
"Move?" Amara's lips curved into that familiar mocking smile.
She propped her feet on my desk and sank deeper into the leather seat. "It's just furniture. Why are you being so dramatic?"
I bit back my response. Fighting over a chair would be pointless, and I knew Amara would just use it as ammunition to threaten me with Mom's fragile condition again. "What brings you here? What do you need?"
