She was still staring at me, waiting for me to defend her.
To put Layla in her place.
To remind everyone in this room who was in charge.
But I didn’t.
Because Layla wasn’t wrong.
And Alexis had crossed a line she didn’t even realize existed.
“Layla’s not the help,” I said evenly. “She’s family.”
Alexis blinked.
“Family?”
“Yeah.”
“But she—she cooks for you. She works for you.”
“She cooks because she’s good at it,” I said. “Not because she’s staff.”
It was a smaller lie. Layla was staff, but she was also more than that when I needed it.
Alexis’s expression shifted.
Softened.
She turned toward Layla, her hands folded in her lap, her voice suddenly apologetic.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean any harm. I just—I didn’t realize.”
Her tone was sweet.
Sincere.
Perfectly calibrated to sound genuine.
But I saw through it.
Saw the way her eyes flicked toward me to gauge my reaction.
Saw the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She’d said it on purpose.
Testing boundaries.
Seeing how far she could push.
Seeing if I’d choose her over Layla.
And now that she knew the answer, she was backtracking.
Playing the role of the gracious guest who’d made an innocent mistake.
I didn’t call her on it.
