Chapter 11

Mara clenched her jaw as she pushed Cassandra’s hand away, gently massaging her stinging cheek. The pain wasn’t just physical—it burned deeper, but with all these high-society women watching, she couldn’t afford to lose it.

These socialites were gossip machines. If Mara rejected Cassandra’s apology, they’d say she was petty. If she slapped Cassandra back, sure, it’d feel satisfying for a second, but tomorrow’s headline would brand her some uncivilized shrew—which would totally wreck her refined-lady image.

Cassandra planned this too well, damn it.

She hadn’t just forced Mara to choke down a cockroach—she’d also cornered her into smiling and pretending it tasted good.

“Miss Hawthorne, are you not willing to accept my apology?” Cassandra lowered her gaze as if hurt, her long lashes conveniently hiding the smirk in her eyes.

Mara was stuck—refusing looked bad, accepting felt worse.

She felt her mother’s stern eyes on her, telling her to suck it up. W