Chapter 171: An Invitation That Feels Like a Summons

The card arrived without ceremony.

It was delivered by hand just after noon, carried by a Whitmore driver who waited long enough to ensure it was received and acknowledged. The envelope was thick, cream colored, edged in gold that caught the light without reflecting it. Lillian knew before opening it who it was from. Beatrice Whitmore did not announce herself loudly. She did not need to.

Lillian stood in the entry hall of Celestine Heights, the house quiet around her, and turned the envelope over once in her hands. There was no seal. No urgency in the presentation. That, more than anything, made her uneasy.

Inside was a single card.

Beatrice requests your presence every Thursday afternoon. Private. Personal. No staff. No press.

No explanati