The moonlight spilled like liquid silver across the marble floor as Coty stood in front of the tall mirror in her bedroom. She wore a robe the color of cream, tied delicately at the waist, her skin glowing under the soft vanity lights. The fading bruise on her cheek had been carefully maintained for effect — darkened slightly with makeup, smudged just enough to look real. A little dramatic, but that’s what sold her lies. She practiced her expressions. Wide, innocent eyes. A soft, wounded smile. A single, practiced tear just to gain pity. “I didn’t want to tell him… but Jenna left me no choice.” She tilted her head, studying the angle. It was almost art, the way she could wear fragility like armor. No one suspected the girl who looked like she could break at the touch of wind. A knock came at her door. Soft. Familiar. “Come in,” Coty called, voice already slipping into silk. Her mother stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. Chloe Spears — second wife of George, stepm
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