Luck was clearly not on her side tonight, because the moment she entered the ballroom, Gabriella stepped into her path.
“Daphne, hello.” Gabriella reached for the diamond necklace at her throat and toyed with it idly, twirling it around her finger as if it were a plastic children’s toy.
“Gabriella.” Daphne started to brush past, but Gabriella’s next words stopped her in her tracks.
“Where did you disappear to? It’s not like you to leave your own party. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were up to something.” There was an emphasis on those last three words that would have been almost comical if Daphne weren’t shivering from apprehension.
“If you must know, I was in the ladies’ room.”
“Nice try, but I was just in there.”
Well, fine. If Gabriella wanted war, then war she would get.
Daphne laughed as if her enemy had said something outrageously funny, drawing them to one side of the ballroom. To everyone else, they probably looked like two friends sharing a secret. “You really need to stop stalking me, or you’ll regret it,” she warned.
“I’m trying to make you realize how out of your league you are. Dating a prince is one thing, but marrying one? I blame myself, honestly. I should never have let things between you and Jeff get as far as I did. But I was in France”—a slight accent laced Gabriella’s voice with those words, deeply pretentious and artificial—“and honestly, I just assumed he would sleep with you until he got bored. I never imagined he would take it so far as to get engaged.”
Daphne stood up straighter. “Even if you did manage to break us up, which you won’t, he’s not going to date you.”
“I don’t care. At this point I’d settle for getting rid of you.”
“How charming,” Daphne said flatly.
“Honestly, Daphne, you’re lucky that Beatrice woke up and redirected the tabloids’ attention. But I’m not worried.” Gabriella smiled cruelly. “It’s only a matter of time before your parents do something stupid again. Then the Poker Princess will be back in the headlines where she belongs.”
There was something distinctly proud, almost proprietary, about the way Gabriella spoke that last sentence.
“Gabriella.” Daphne’s voice was ice-cold. “Are you the one who invented that nickname?”
Gabriella gave a slow, mocking clap. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out! My first suggestion was Dicey Daphne, but for some reason they didn’t use that one. Oh well.” She leaned forward, eyes glowing. “Promise me you’ll enjoy it while it lasts. After all, this is the only time in your life that anyone will ever call you Princess.”
Daphne knew she should be outraged, or afraid, yet all she felt was a hollow sort of sadness. “Why are you like this? What did I ever do to you?”
Gabriella blinked as if the question didn’t make sense. “Isn’t it obvious? You reached too high.”
You reached too high. Even after all this time, those words hurt Daphne in some deep, vulnerable place that she never let anyone see.
She squared her shoulders and forced herself to smile. “I’m not reaching, Gabriella. I’m climbing. You said it best, I’m a social climber, and I will keep being one—right until I climb over you, all the way to the very top.”
Gabriella flounced off with an angry sniff. Slowly, and with some trepidation, Daphne angled herself away from the rest of the ballroom and pulled out her phone.
She’d saved the website for Melinda’s Gourmet Bakery after Rei handed her the fake business card. It was the work of a moment to fill out the contact form, writing her name and Fiftieth Anniversary Cake in the subject line.
* * *
Later that night, when Daphne was seated at her vanity wiping off her makeup, her phone rang from Unknown Caller. She fumbled to answer it. “Rei?”
“Hi, Daphne. What can I do for you?”
Rei’s tone was brisk, no-nonsense. Daphne liked that about her.
“I need you to hack the Madisons’ home network. I’ll pay your going rate,” Daphne added quickly. “But this is important.”
There was the sound of clicking keys. “You want me to stop working on the firewall behind your threatening emails?”
“Can you do both? Consider this a side project for me,” Daphne pleaded.
“I see.” Rei’s voice lowered meaningfully. “Ethan doesn’t know.”
“Look, do you want my money or not?”
Rei chuckled. “Easy there. I’m on it, okay? I’ll invoice you later.”
“Thanks,” Daphne began, but the other girl had already hung up.
Daphne stared at her phone in shock, shaking her head. Fine. She would negotiate with hackers who navigated the dark web, would sell more of her wardrobe to pay for it, would do whatever it took to rid herself of Gabriella.
If Gabriella wanted to fight dirty, then so would she.
“Your Majesty, it’s wonderful to see you again.” Lady Francesca de León paused on her way out of the ballroom to curtsy.
Beatrice forced a smile. “I’m glad to be back.”
“If I might have a moment of your time, there was something I wanted to discuss,” the noblewoman—and senator—went on.
Right now? Beatrice thought wearily. Jefferson and Daphne’s engagement party was limping along to its conclusion. After hours of being on her feet, dodging questions when she didn’t know the answer, and fumbling to hide her memory loss, Beatrice was ready to unhook her tiara and fall into bed.
“Were you able to take a look at the final draft of my proposal?” Lady de León was saying.
“Your proposal,” Beatrice repeated awkwardly. “Can you…remind me which proposal this is?”
Lady de León seemed hurt. “My nationwide initiative for women’s small businesses. We spoke about it extensively earlier this year.”
“Of course!” Beatrice cried out. “I’m so grateful that you’re helping to support female business owners. And I hope your proposal has a special allowance for people from marginalized backgrounds.”
The senator shot her a funny look. “It does, because you made that request the last time we met. You were the one who recommended I reach out to Senator Gupta as a collaborator.”
Beatrice’s stomach plummeted. Why had she felt the need to elaborate, instead of leaving it at a simple Thank you, let’s get some time on the calendar?