Chapter 37

• Camila retrieved a sharp kitchen knife—Renee, still in attack mode, insisted on the principle of using a utility tool rather than something delicate—and carefully sliced through the thick, silver ribbon. The ribbon gave way with a satisfying shsshhk, and Camila pushed back the heavy lid.
• The box was lined with deep, forest-green silk, folded and tucked with precision. Resting in custom-cut velvet beds, the contents glowed with an aggressive, unapologetic luxury that smelled faintly of new Italian leather and expensive perfume. Renee didn't just feel revulsion; she felt physically assaulted by the sheer, targeted wealth.
• "Oh. My. God," Camila breathed, momentarily stunned into reverence.