Chapter 7: I Only Kneel for Beyoncé

The scent of gardenias floated above the clink of champagne glasses. Waiters in pressed tuxedos hovered, pretending not to stare.

"What? Bullying? The Thompson daughter does that?"

"Well, she’s always been spoiled—no wonder she can’t stand competition."

"At least her brother’s got integrity."

Rachel’s gaze sparkled with triumph. I straightened my spine, my voice ringing out: "What’s with the melodrama, Nathan? You act like you’re auditioning for a period drama. In this life, I only kneel for Beyoncé, and even then only if she personally asks."

I eyed him up and down, smirking. "How about this—go jump off the Golden Gate Bridge and I’ll kneel three times, say a prayer, and hire a gospel choir just for you."

Nathan’s face darkened, jaw tight enough to crack a molar. Rachel clung to his sleeve, her voice trembling: "Madison, I know you don’t like me, but how can you talk to your own brother this way?"

She widened her eyes, tears glistening like she practiced in the mirror. Behind them, Tyler’s eyes flashed with something dark before he spoke, low: "Maddie, you messed up. Just apologize. No need to drag it out."

I widened my eyes, feigning confusion: "Sorry, can’t understand you over the barking. Maybe Cesar Millan can translate?"

"Enough!" Nathan finally snapped. "Madison, don’t you have any shame? Who taught you this filth?"

He’d rather see me thrown under the bus, again and again. I mirrored his sneer: "Guess who taught me, big bro? Remember when you taught me to forge Mom’s signature and curse out the neighbors? I learned from the best."