Chapter 92

• The upscale café buzzed with the soft clinking of porcelain and the murmur of subdued conversation. It was Claire’s kind of place—polished, pretentious, and full of people eager to be seen. Maya stood near the entrance, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She spotted Claire easily, sitting by the window, a perfectly manicured hand lazily stirring a cappuccino.
• Maya took a deep breath, steadying herself before approaching. She hadn’t planned this confrontation, but after everything Claire had done—manipulating Ivy, the near-kidnapping at the park—Maya couldn’t stay silent any longer. She had to make it clear that Claire’s meddling had come to an end.
• Claire looked up as Maya approached, a smirk curling at the edges of her lips. “Well, well,” she drawled, setting her spoon down. “If it isn’t Maya Castellano. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”