Aria descended the grand, floating staircase of the penthouse, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her black hoodie. But as she reached the bottom step, a major roadblock appeared.
"Well, well. Scurrying away to the guest wing already?"
Diana was parked in the center of the foyer in her wheelchair, a crystal glass of sparkling water resting in her cup holder. She wore a smug, deeply satisfied smirk that radiated toxic energy.
Aria let out a long, heavy sigh, devoid of the energy required to deal with this woman's delusions today.
"Diana, please," Aria muttered, trying to sidestep the wheelchair. "I am not in the mood."
"Oh, I'm sure you aren't," Diana gloated, effortlessly wheeling herself to block Aria's path again. "My nurse has been keeping me updated, you see. She tells me Damien is currently locked in his study, drowning himself in scotch."
Diana tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with vindictive triumph.
