"No… wait a minute…"
The color drained from Yvette Grant's face, which had been flushed just a moment ago. Mrs. Thorne calling her "sister" had clearly disgusted her.
'Who wants to be sisters with an old hag like you!'
She was a socialite who hobnobbed with princesses from small countries abroad!
A socialite and a middle-aged woman?
They didn't even sound like they belonged in the same picture!
Yvette Grant looked Mrs. Thorne up and down, noting her sallow face, calloused hands, graying hair, and an entire outfit that couldn't have cost more than a couple hundred.
And this was the woman who dared to call her "sister"?
Yvette Grant felt a coppery taste in her throat; she had a few choice words she was dying to say.
She had called Mrs. Thorne "Auntie" with the intention of disgusting Shirley Thorne. But now the tables had been turned on her, and under the guise of "traditional virtues," no less.
Yvette Grant's blood pressure was about to go through the roof!
