The amber hue of the setting sun filtered through the wide glass panels of the Richard mansion’s solarium, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors. The evening had arrived softly, yet within the gilded walls of the estate, something sharp and venomous simmered beneath the surface.

Isabella sat with deliberate grace at the center of the room, her silk evening robe shimmering like molten gold. The elegance she wore so effortlessly couldn’t hide the impatient tapping of her fingers against the teacup. Every passing minute grated on her nerves.

Across from her, Isla reclined on a lounge chair, one leg crossed over the other, flipping through a fashion magazine...