Chapter 126
Daphne POV
Sitting across from me is Mrs. Vice President—my oldest sister and the peak model of what a Castellano lady is supposed to be.
She's so skinny she looks like she might snap in half, and her face doesn't even move anymore with the amount of cosmetic work she's had done. Which is strange, considering she should only be in her early thirties. But that's Fiorella—polished to perfection, sculpted by the expectations of a family that eats its women alive and calls them lucky.
She's everything a Castellano daughter should be: obedient, poised, married for politics, and miserable. Maybe she's nice. Maybe she's not. I wouldn't know. We've never gotten along, mostly because of her transparent disdain for me.
Even now, it's obvious in her expression—or at least I think it is. It's always hard to tell with her face frozen halfway between pity and contempt.
"I'm sure you've noticed the current state of our family," she says, voice smooth as polished glass.
