A GAMBLE I'M MORE THAN WILLING TO TAKE

ELLIS felt like a flying car had hit her—except instead of bruises and wounds, it left her with a pounding headache and the sudden, irrational certainty that she was seconds away from cardiac arrest. She clutched the edge of the table, her grip so tight it could probably leave fingerprints on solid oak, while her eyes darted to the teapot like it was the only thing tethering her to sanity. 

Without thinking, she grabbed her teacup and started drinking. Sip. Sip. Sip. A brief pause. Sip. Was it helping? Not at all. But the thought of putting the cup down felt like admitting defeat, and she wasn't about to let a family scandal knock her out of commission. She poured herself another cup with shaky hands, muttering internally about needing to invest in a flask—forget water; she was going to start carrying emergency tea for moments like these.