Mrs. Lawson’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing.
One call after another. She stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed her.
Names flashed...women she’d laughed with at luncheons, clinked glasses with, women who smiled too hard and measured everything like it was a competition. She answered one.
“Darling,” the voice on the other end cooed sweetly, venom wrapped in silk. “We just left the auction livestream. How… unfortunate. Seems your son isn’t quite the billionaire you claimed he was.”
A pause.
Then a soft laugh.
“Maybe next time don’t exaggerate so much.”
The call ended.
Mrs. Lawson’s fingers trembled. Her lips peeled back in fury. Another call buzzed in...she rejected it violently.
“Bastards,” she hissed. “All of them.”
Her chest burned...not medically, but socially. The
