“Oh wow! For a second there, I thought someone was eating blue cheese in here. I was just about to ask the waiter when they added that to the menu–so sorry about

that…”

The speaker looked positively innocent.

Sienna nced up at the sound, wine dripping through her hair and stering it to her forehead. Paired with her deep red lipstick, she looked like some bedraggled viiness straight out of a horror film.

“It’s you! Queenie!”

Bitterness still tinged Sienna’s voice.

“Oh my, if it isn’t Miss Winston? Sorry about that,” Queenie said, feigning surprise

as she saw Sienna.

She seemedpletely oblivious to the resentment in Sienna’s itone/i, her delicate features drawn into an expression of exaggerated concern. She reached iout /ias if to help Sienna up, but stopped short before actually touching her.

“Miss Winston, was it you who ordered the blue cheese? Because I could swear that awful smell ising straight from your mouth.”

“What are you talking about? Who would ever eat something like that?”

“Oh, so you have tried it.” Queenie’s airy reply cut straight through Sienna’s defenses.

“You’re talking nonsense!” Sienna snapped, her face flushing red as she tried to salvage iher /idignity.

“It’s actually idelicious/i, you know. But don’t worry–just remember to rinse your mouth after. It’s just basic etiquette for ady.”

Queenie stood, never offering her hand, instead looking down at Sienna. Her sweet voice belied the cold indifference in her eyes.

“Sorry, but let’s end our conversation here.” She turned her attention to Vera, seated across from her.

“Miss Windsor, it was such a pleasure. I look forward to working together,” Vera said, rising andpletely ignoring Sienna.

After a brief handshake, Vera slung her purse over her shoulder and strode out of

b09:32 /b

the restaurant.

Queenie didn’t linger, she grabbed her bag, but not before sharing a nce with Max, who remained serenely at his seat. He raised his empty wine ss in her direction.

Queenie grinned and raised her own ss, miming a toast through the air before taking a delicate sip.

As Queenie’s graceful figure disappeared from view, Sienna’s eyes practically sparked with rage.

At nearby tables, several guests whispered and pointed in her direction. Her sharp tongue and cutting tone hadn’t exactly earned her any sympathy.

Sienna ignored them all, hauled herself to her feet, grabbed her purse, and shot Max a venomous re before storming off.

With the main yers gone, Max finally stood, straightened his suit jacket, and calmly settled the bill before leaving.

A designer suit jackety abandoned in the restaurant’s parking lot trash can.

The moment Max slid into his car, his phone began to buzz–Scott was calling.

He ignored the call, switched his phone to silent, and let the screen go dark, over

and over.

When he finally returned home that night, the Tate family mansion was still aze with light.

Not a word of greeting awaited him inside–only Scott’s open palm.

The p inded /ihard, leaving four clear red marks on Max’s face.

“Do you have any idea what kind of mess you’ve made?”

Max worked his jaw, a smirk flickering in his eyes, but when he met Scott’s gaze, his expression turned cold.

He stood tall–at least a head taller than Scott. While Scott’s body was softened by years of drinking and neglect, Max was lean and athletic. Yet, despite his height, there was always the sense that he was the underdog in this house.

“The Winstons called,” Scott spat. “They said you doused Sienna in red wine over some girl named Alessia. Are you trying to bankrupt Tate Holdings even faster?”