EMILY I had imagined this moment a hundred different ways, and yet none of those rehearsed versions prepared me for the reality of standing face-to-face with Maltida, breathing the same air, watching her smile as if she were untouchable. The room itself was a quiet declaration of wealth, soft gold lighting, polished marble floors, and the faint scent of something expensive and floral lingering in the air. Everything about her world screamed power, and yet all I could see were the cracks beneath the surface, the desperation she worked so hard to hide.I kept my expression composed, my posture relaxed but calculated, every inch of me transformed into Ivory, the woman she expected to meet. “Mrs. Maltida,” I said smoothly, offering a polite smile as I extended my hand.She took it, her grip firm but curious, her sharp eyes scanning my face as though trying to place me in a world she thought she already knew. “Ivory,” she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “I’ve heard quite a bit
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