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Nothing was okay.
I squeezed my mouth shut, listening to them talk.
“Wait. Isn’t this…?”
“Yeah. Bo Sun.TheBo Sun.” Silence. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Is he…?”
“They’re going to have to cut him off before they can get to the kid. He’s speared onto the rake through the melted metal.”
“Goddammit. Poor kid.”
“Iheard her hair stylist has less Instagram followers than she does.” Tabby snapped her gum from the backseat of the Mercedes GLE. “And she has, like, four thousand? I mean, just let the butcher at Balducci’s do your hair and be done with it.”
“She’s flaunting those bangs like it’s 1999. No one has the guts to tell her they look awful on curly hair.” Reggie snickered. “And her balayage is downright orange.”
Tabitha and Regina Ballantine, ladies and gentlemen.
My stepsisters.
Between them, they produced enough venom to kill a well-populated island.
My stepmother Vera tutted from her spot behind the steering wheel.
“Now, now, girls. That’s not very charitable.” The words didn’t match her vicious giggles. “Sylvia is a nice girl. A little plain, but that’s not her fault. Have you seen her mother?”
Tabby scoffed. “Unfortunately.”
I bit my lip as hard as I could, stifling the urge to point out that Sylvia Hall had just passed the bar after graduating magna cum laude from Georgetown. Her head had more to offer the world than an overpriced haircut.
But I wasn’t in a position to say anything.
One, because the Ballantine women hated my guts, and everything I said would be used against me.
And two, because I was quite literally not in a position to speak—nestled in the trunk, balled into a fetal position, breathing as shallowly as possible to keep my presence unknown.
The SUV rolled past Potomac’s manicured lawns. Outside, the air had thickened with blooming flowers. All I smelled was Tabby’s riding boots. A mixture of manure, hay, and whatever stable boy she’d wrapped her legs around this week.
“Are we almost there?” Reggie smacked her lips, snapping somethingshut. “I’m low-key excited, you know? I’ve never been to Zach Sun’s house.”
“Take a picture, because this’ll be your first and last time.” Tabby snorted. “I don’t even know why you’re making us go, Mom. Everyone knows Constance Sun would carve out a kidney if it meant her son will marry whomever she chooses.”
“Zachary Sun has a mind of his own. If he decides he wants one of you ladies for a bride, no one will stop him.”
If nothing else, I admired Vera Ballantine’s eternal optimism. Tabby and Reggie were about as desirable as chronic wasting disease. A lethal combination of high maintenance and low IQ.
“Besides…” Vera switched the station to classical, even though she didn’t know Yo-Yo Ma fromYo Gabba Gabba. “There’ll be other rich, influential men there, ready to be bagged. There’s that duke… Oliver something?”
“Von Bismarck.” Tabby gagged. “The man is a certified skirt chaser. He’ll probably give me an STD if he breathes in my direction.”
Reggie snorted. “It’s cute how you pretend you’re not interested.”
“Pulling out my Uno reverse card, sissy.”
“For your information, he once invited me to his mansion on the Amalfi Coast.”
“Only you and every other woman with a pulse.” Tabby clucked her tongue. “Wow. If I were you, I’d start designing those wedding invitations right away.”
