Amara sighed, glaring at her phone screen as she saw her father's name flashing. "Why is it always my family?"
Elara, sipping her water like an elegant queen, smirked. "Maybe they just love you."
Amara scoffed before answering. "What now, Dad?"
"Amara," her father's voice was unusually… pleased. Which instantly set off all her alarms. Gerald Lyselle was many things brilliant, ruthless, an enigma wrapped in business suits but pleased? That was suspicious.
"What did you do?" she asked bluntly.
Gerald chuckled. "That's no way to greet your dear father, is it?"
"I don't have time for your dramatics—"
"Good, because I've already made arrangements for a romantic soirée for you and Elara."
Amara froze. "You did what?"
