The Kavinsky estate breathed quiet authority, its marble floors cold beneath the heavy footsteps that echoed through the grand hallway. Outside, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across manicured gardens, but inside the mansion, a far colder drama was unfolding.

Lily stood discreetly behind a heavy velvet curtain in the drawing room, watching the scene before her unfold with a mixture of anxiety and bitter satisfaction. The woman who had tormented her Kella was standing there, alone, facing Mrs. Kavinsky, the matriarch who ruled the family with an iron fist wrapped in velvet gloves.

Mrs. Kavinsky entered the room like a storm cloaked in silk, her crisp cream blouse perfectly...