Page 12 of Kentrell

It was all a farce. I knew it. Isawit.

Especially that day in Malcolm’s office. One look at my resume—and my address—was all it took. Once she realized I hadn’t come from money, hadn’t been born into the kind of social capital she’d built her entire existence on, her whole face changed.

Her nose turned up so high I was surprised it didn’t bleed from altitude.

I understand her type. She thinks I don’t belong here. That no matter how polished I become, I’ll always be a girl from the South Side wearing borrowed prestige and pretending it fits.

But she’s wrong.

I earned my seat. Every inch of ground I’ve gained was taken by force, not favor.

My clients—premierclients—request me by name. Kensington Holdings. Sinclair Pharmaceuticals. Chen Manufacturing. Romano Vineyards. I handle their portfolios with care, precision, and excellence.

There hasn’t been a single complaint.

Certainly not from Mr. Kensington.

If anything, he’s been trying to convince me to accompany him to the Winter Wonderland Ball next month. It’s being held right here—at The Apex.

“Whatever happened to ‘let loose and live’?”

Ayesha’s voice floated into my ear, a gentle tease laced with just enough judgment to sting.

I sighed, shoulders rising and falling as I gave a noncommittal shrug.

“You just won Lang Jewelry’s trademark suit—and she’s not even your client,” she added, brows arched as she accepted a champagne flute from a passing server.

The glass caught the light just right, casting tiny rainbows across her cheekbones.

“Mmm.” She moaned after the first sip, her lips curling into a grin that promised more trouble than I was ready for. “This calls for a celebration. You’veearnedit.”

She snatched another flute off the tray and pressed it into my hand before I could protest.

“Don’t give me that look,” she warned, already clocking the expression on my face.

The side-eye I gave her barely masked the war happening inside me.

“You yapped all the way here,” she said with a smirk, “just to take your usual place on the sidelines.”

Caught off guard by Ayesha’s words, I couldn’t shake the nagging thought—maybe Ihadbeen too careful. The grand opening of The Apex andK-Reesewasn’t just an event—it was a moment. A stage. And even the quietest voice could shine if they dared to step into the light.

Ayesha nudged me with her shoulder, her voice soft but firm. “Let loose and live a little, Zoe.”

Her encouragement felt like warmth against the October breeze.

“Iamliving,” I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “And we’re doing the same thing!”

The champagne fizzed unexpectedly in my throat, and I winced, catching the light burn at the back of my tongue. It was a good pour—just sneakier than I expected.

Mars and Stacia giggled behind their glasses, pointing at someone through the patio doors. Whatever they saw had themdoubled over in amusement before their attention shifted back to me and Ayesha.

“And I’m not standing on the sidelines,” I added, squaring my shoulders with mock indignation. “We came outside to escape Lance, remember?”

That name alone made Ayesha’s face twist up like she’d tasted something bitter. She glanced around me, scanning the terrace to make sure he wasn’t lurking nearby.

“Ugh.Fuckthat rail-thin, coke bottle lens-wearing muthafucka,” Stacia snapped, her tone laced with disgust. She cussed best when she was irritated—and trying to change the subject.

“Let’s get away from here and head down to the store.” She hooked one arm through mine and another through Mars’s. “Shemar said Kensei put up a few display pieces, and I need that baggy jumpsuit from fashion week. I’ve been dreaming about it.”

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