The sisters kept at it, their voices weaving together in patterns that spoke of countless similar arguments. Harlow would make some cutting observation about Vivienne's organizational tendencies, Vivienne would fire back with commentary about Harlow's approach to literally anything, Cassidy would try to mediate while somehow making things worse, and Sabrina would interject with dry observations that made everyone pause before the cycle started again. It was almost musical. A dysfunctional symphony they'd been rehearsing since childhood.
I watched the Manhattan skyline slide past through the tinted glass, my thoughts drifting toward what was coming.
Camille Valentine.
