The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the Classens' expansive garden. Mishka sat on a stone bench, absently twirling a fallen leaf between her fingers as she watched Bruce and her grandmother engaged in what appeared to be an animated discussion near the rose bushes.
The scene before her felt surreal. Just days ago, Myrtle had been vehemently opposed to Mishka's relationship with Bruce, dismissing him as a frivolous distraction from Mishka's "true path" in the family business. Now, here they were, thick as thieves, sharing secrets and strategies as if they'd been allies for years.
Mishka couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
"Hey there," Bruce's voice broke through her reverie as he approached, a warm smile on his face. "Your grandmother is quite the strategist. I can see where you get your sharp mind from."