Elena stepped forward just enough to be acknowledged—but not enough to challenge.
A perfect calculation.
She dipped her head in a polite, shallow bow.
"Mrs. Sterling," she said smoothly. "I thought the entrance required more… authority. A brand like yours shouldn't be associated with weeds."
Weeds.
The word landed like a blade wrapped in silk.
I smiled.
Not sweet.
Not polite.
Just… precise.
"Wildflowers aren't weeds, Elena," I said evenly, holding her gaze. "They're resilient. They grow where they aren't invited."
A beat.
Silence stretched.
She didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
"Precisely," she replied. "Which is why they require… management."
There it was.
Not a challenge.
Not openly.
But something far more dangerous—
A belief.
Reid shifted slightly beside me, oblivious to the shift in temperature, his attention already drifting elsewhere.
