Phoebe's POV
I'd never been one for overseas parties. The phony networking made my skin crawl, and keeping up my carefully crafted mystique meant most of my background had to stay fiction anyway.
Still, I knew the rules. This wasn't some red carpet moment demanding a dramatic entrance.
"Seriously? Saving the grand finale for me?" My glare cut through the family clustered in my doorway, their saccharine smiles twisting deeper with each "it's for your own good."
Sergio had dressed up today—his outfit coordinated with Nathalia's gown in matching tones. Even Patty's crimson off-shoulder number screamed for attention.
Atticus was nowhere to be seen. As the family's golden boy, he'd already headed down to work the crowd.
Their game plan couldn't be more transparent. They were camping outside my door to ensure I stayed put—couldn't have me showing up early and wrecking their setup.
The thing was, they thought they were being subtle. But their smirks gave away everything.
