I cracked more eggs. Let the oil sizzle. Pretended I didn’t hear them talking about the night. About the penthouse. About how soft the sheets were. About how Edmund snored less when he was “with her.” About how my shampoo made him sneeze. They ate like I was the maid. Talked like I wasn’t real.
Then the front door flung open.
“Family’s here!” Lester’s voice boomed like a sitcom dad. “Let the party begin!”
Loisa followed behind him, heels clicking against the tiles, holding up a new designer purse like it was the Holy Grail. “Mom, look! Elizabeth gave me this! Can you believe it? Real leather! Italian! And these earrings? Gifted. God, she’s such a giver.”
She twirled like a child. Like she didn’t already own closets full of things Lester bought for her. Not that he ever bought me a single scarf.
Behind them, the twins stormed in with that careless energy only teenagers have. Lyle was wearing sunglasses indoors. Nash had something massive covered in brown paper.
Loisa laughed again, too loud. “Didn’t you hear? Lizzie gave us the whole penthouse. We slept like royals. You should’ve seen the tub. Bigger than our bedroom.”