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Meanwhile, Ella shrank back into herself, shoulders slumped, head bowed low. Acting isn’t considered a respectable enough profession in my parents’ eyes. They want Ella to join the family business, like I did. But she’s laser-focused on her dream of becoming a famous actress while I’m busy trying to please Mom and Dad.

I squeeze Ella’s hand. “I’m so proud of you. Text me the details. I’ll be there.”

“Forget it, Mar.” Ella shakes off my hand. “I’ll go to the restroom.”

Heads turn as her chair screeches against the floor, grabbing the gossip queens’ attention.

“Is everything alright?” Mrs. Morgan asks as Ella walks away.

I’m not a good sister.

“Of course.” My mother waves her hand dismissively. “Did you hear about Tatiana? She relapsed again and is back in rehab. Poor thing.”

Tsk-tsks ripple around the circle as they pick over this juicy bit of gossip. I stay silent.

“It’s those drugs.” Mrs. Thompson wrinkles her nose. “Nasty habit. No willpower at all.”

Mrs. Morgan nods. “Her poor daughter. The girl must be so embarrassed. And now she has to deal with her mother’s issues on top of everything else.”

My mother cuts in. “Well, it’s high time she stops whoring around. Without Tatiana coddling her, she’ll finally grow up.”

Even in sympathy, my mother finds fault.

“Oh, must you be so harsh?” Mrs. Morgan tuts. “The girl just needs guidance. We all do, from time to time.”

Before my mother can retort, Ella returns with reddened eyes. “My apologies.” She smooths her features into a pleasant mask. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, dear.” Mrs. Morgan pats her hand. “We were just discussing the arrangements for the upcoming gala.”

With that, the conversation moves on. But under the table, I squeeze Ella’s hand again, hoping she understands I’m here for her. For once, she doesn’t recoil.

“Guess who I got to come to the gala.” My mother smiles with pride.

“Who?”

“None other than Mr. Elijah Milton. He’s quite the catch in New York these days. Billionaire, philanthropist, CEO.”

The women at the table collectively gasp.

“Isn’t he engaged to Esther Whitman?” Mrs. Thompson asks.

“That’s what I heard, too,” my mother says. “It’s a shame, really. He would have been perfect for Mary.”

“Another eligible bachelor taken. Such a shame,” I say. “One less man you can harass me about.”

“Ah, well,” my mother sighs dramatically. “Can’t win them all, I suppose.”

“Esther is a lovely girl,” Mrs. Morgan adds. “They would make a striking couple. Let’s see and wait if the rumors are true.”

I force myself to smile as the conversation continues, counting down the minutes until I can leave this place and take a deep, much-needed breath of fresh air, which is non-existent here due to the overpowering amount of perfume they use.

“Speaking of eligible bachelors,” Mrs. Morgan says, “My Serena is dating Sebastian.”

I nearly choke on my mimosa. Sebastian, as in, my best friend Lil’s ex Sebastian? The one she has never gotten over?

“Sebastian Barron?” I manage to cough out.

“Quite the catch, I know,” Mrs. Morgan says and prattles on about how handsome and successful Sebastian apparently is while the other ladies cluck approvingly.

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