~Narrator’s~

“Now, isn’t this charming?” Adele coos as she gestures to the long glass table adorned in microfiber napkins and golden flatware. “Just a small, intimate brunch for the real family.”

Her smile is lactose. Her dress is soft cream silk with a slit too high for morning. And her fake bump sits perfectly under her belt, like a prop on display.

Mrs. Cuss eyes her slowly from across the table, lifting a champagne flute but not sipping. “You certainly know how to spend.”

“It’s not about the cost,” Adele says as she adjusts the orchid centerpiece. “It’s about taste. Thoughtfulness. What a family deserves.”

Reo sits stiffly between them,...