Ella

Jessica's eyes flick between the people at the table, landing on me last. I see the venom in her stare, the barely concealed hatred. Her lip curls in that familiar way—sharp and cruel—before she turns back to her parents.

"What's going on?" she snaps, breaking the silence. "Who are these people?"

George's father, seated at the head of the table, glances at me briefly before returning his icy gaze to his daughter. His voice is calm, but there's an ...