n Bart

nds echoed her sentiment, their faces lighting up with a mixture of welcome and eager anticipation. I nodded, a small, tight smile o

er early twenties, with delicate features and wide, innocent eyes. She was certainly not a "copy" of me. There was no physical resembl

rivate lounge, was part of the Barton family legacy. I owned a significant share. This wasn't just a seat; it was my seat, a symbolic claim of belonging and authority. Kacy, perched there, half-lean

nudging Edwin, trying to signal the inappropriateness of the situation. Edwin, however, seemed oblivious, or perhaps unwilling to acknowledge the obvious social faux pas. He

sive edge. "Kacy just naturally gravitated to that spot. There's no need to make a fuss about a chai

ed, my voice laced with steel. "Perhaps you should have informed your guest about the customs of this place, or at least, who actually owns

's eyes, which had held a flicker of defensiveness, now hardened. His gaze became icy, devoid o

w and dangerous. "This is not the time or place." His

, silencing the gossip. "Don't you dare speak of Kaitlyn like that! You know nothing about her, and you have no right to question her character!" he had declared, his eyes blazing wit

rivals had tried to do. His words, his protective stance over Kacy, felt exactly like the betrayal of t

steady, unwavering. "Tell me, Edwin, what would you consider a 's

angry with Kaitlyn." She spoke my name with a saccharine sweetness that grated on my nerves. "It's all my fault. I didn't know. I'm so sorry, Kaitlyn. I'l