Serenity smiled, and it reached her eyes. “She really is. Grandma Rita’s the only reason any of us turned out halfway normal. She’s the one who held the family together when…” She trailed off, her smile dimming slightly.
“When Vivica was being Vivica?”
“You know about that?”
“Prime’s told me some things.” I chose my words carefully. “Enough to know that his mother isn’t exactly… maternal.”
“That’s putting it mildly. She truly is an amazing woman because technically I’m not her granddaughter. She’s Prime’s father’s mother. I’m the daughter of another guy. But she treats me like the boys. Actually better since I’m a girl. ” Serenity shook her head and laughed. ”But let’s not talk about her. Tell me about you. Prime said you care for your nephew?”
“Yusef. He’s twelve. He’s at home tonight. Hopefully not destroying Prime’s penthouse.”
We talked for a while—about Yusef, about Sweet Zin, about Serenity’s new job that she was vague about but seemed excited for. She was different than I expected. Warmer. Less guarded than she’d been at the beginning of the night. Whatever had been going on with her and her brothers, it seemed like she was coming out the other side. I’d taken a liking to her. She was young, about Mehar’s age.
“I’m really glad Prime found you,” she said. “He deserves someone who?—”
A scream cut through the ballroom.
High-pitched. Theatrical. The kind of scream that demanded attention.
Every head in the room turned toward the dessert table.
Farah was standing there, holding one of my cinnamon rolls like it was a dead rat. Her face was twisted in disgust, and she was pointing at the pastry with her other hand.
“There’s a ROACH!” she shrieked. “There’s a roach baked into this!”
Time stopped.
I watched, frozen, as people near the table recoiled. As whispers started spreading through the crowd. As phones came out—because of course they did—recording everything.
And then I saw it.
That little smirk at the corner of Farah’s mouth. The satisfaction she was trying to hide behind the performance of horror.
That bitch.
I was moving before I even made the conscious decision to do so. Pushing through the crowd, my blood pounding in my ears, every ounce of composure I’d built up tonight evaporating like steam.
“You put that there.”
Farah’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I stopped right in front of her, close enough to see the way her pupils dilated with excitement. She wanted this. Wanted a scene. “There was no roach in my rolls. I baked every single one of them myself in a brand new kitchen. You planted that.”
“Are you insane?” Farah clutched her chest like I’d wounded her. “I’m trying to help. Someone could have EATEN this. There could be an infestation?—”
“The only infestation here is you.” I stepped closer. “You’ve been trying to sabotage me since the moment you realized Prime wasn’t interested in your desperate ass.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Farah’s mask slipped, that fake concern replaced by something uglier.
“Desperate? Please.” She looked me up and down with pure contempt. “I’m not the one who had to spread my legs to get a man to invest in my little hobby business. Those rolls taste as cheap as you look?—”
I slapped her so hard my palm stung.
Her head snapped to the side. A collective gasp went through the room. And for one perfect second, there was absolute silence.
Then chaos.
Farah was screaming—real screaming now, not that performative bullshit from before. People were crowdingaround. Phones were definitely recording. And I was standing there with my hand still raised, breathing hard, feeling absolutely zero regret.
