A Toast to Herself

Dinner at the Swift residence was usually a quiet, elegant affair. The long mahogany dining table was set impeccably, the crystal chandelier overhead casting a soft glow over the delicate china and silverware.

Stephanie sat at the head of the table, gracefully sipping her freshly squeezed pineapple juice, while Ivy and Damien enjoyed their meal at either side of her.

Then came the sound of heels clicking against the marble floors.

Olivia.

As always, she made an entrance.

Dressed in a sleek silk robe, her hair perfectly styled, she strutted toward the dining table with an air of confidence that was impossible to ignore. Without a care, she pulled out a chair at the other end of the head table—the same one she always claimed, as though she were entitled to it.

She lowered herself into the seat, her lips curving into a pleased smile.