Amara had just finished defending Elara from a gaggle of brainless gossipers when she caught sight of a familiar car pulling up to the entrance of the building.
Oh no. Not now.
The sleek black car, a symbol of her family's empire, pulled to a smooth stop, and sure enough, her parents stepped out, looking as impeccably dressed and intimidating as always. Her mother, with her perfectly styled hair and sharp suit, surveyed the scene like a hawk ready to swoop down on prey. Her father, equally severe in his tailored suit, gave a nod of approval at the building's design as if he personally built it.
Fantastic. Just what she needed after the emotional marathon that was defending Elara.
"Amara!" her mother called, her voice cutting through the air like the snap of a whip. "Over here."
