At the Entrance of a Five-Star Hotel, My Sister Pushed Me Away. “Get lost, you can’t even afford a glass of water here,” She Laughed. My Mother Added, “A former maid like you just smells like bleach. Go back to scrubbing toilets.”

“Arthur Keating is a remarkably astute man,” I said mildly, tilting my head. “I highly doubt my quiet presence would distract him from your… elaborate pitch.”

Eleanor’s face paled for a fraction of a second. A flicker of genuine, nervous terror flashed behind her heavily made-up eyes before she ruthlessly crushed it under an avalanche of manufactured indignation. “How do you know anything about our business? Have you been spying on us? God, you’re sick. You’re utterly pathetic.”

“You need to leave right now,” Harper ordered loudly.

The sharp, shrill