The Aftermath
“Wait!” Margaret’s voice cracked, desperation replacing superiority. “Alicia—please. We didn’t know. If you had told us—”
Alicia turned slowly. “Told you what? That I was worth treating with respect?”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Somewhere near the piano, a glass shattered. Outside, sirens wailed faintly, mingling with the echo of embarrassment that clung to the Whitmore name.
Alicia gave a small nod to the valet by the door. “Thank you for the invitation,” she said simply, and left.
