61

THIRTY ONE

Malia sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixated on the floor, as her mother gently combed through her hair. The rhythmic strokes of the brush were meant to soothe, but the tension in Malia’s clenched fists betrayed her frustration.

“You look absolutely stunning, Malia,” her mother, Mrs. Lyra, said, a smile playing on her lips. “I’m telling you, no man will be able to walk past without turning his head.” She admired her daughter’s reflection in the mirror, her voice dripping with pride.

Malia’s lips tightened into a thin line, her eyes dark with jealousy as she met her mother’s gaze in the mirror. “That’s only if my idiotic stepsister doesn’t decide to crash the night and ruin everything, like she always does,” she muttered bitterly, venom seeping into her tone.

Mrs. Lyra’s fingers paused for a second, her face twisting with a knowing smirk before she resumed brushing. “Oh, that’s right, Talia. The ever-perfect golden child. But did you hear?” Her voice lowered, al