But I don’t even know anyone from the Scott family.

“So this is Ms. Jackson? How beautiful. Such grace, and a spark of spirit to match—even her talent shows in her presence.” Madam Scott greeted me, her voice warm, the words gilded with flattery.

I blinked, shocked by her direct praise. A flush rose to my cheeks. Praise, while not unfamiliar, seldom felt like this.

Since childhood, I’d been told I was pretty, even called a budding beauty more ...