"We love it. We love anything from our Winslow! Take it back inside, keep it safe. Don't let anything happen to it!"
Anyone watching could see it was ordinary tea, worth a fraction of what my painting had cost. But the difference in how they received it couldn't have been wider.
After that, Adrian Lennox and Adrian Ashford led Adrian Winslow toward the main banquet hall of the cruiser without another look in my direction.
I was long past being wounded by it. I'd known exactly how it would go before I'd stepped aboard. There was no emotion left to stir.
Halfway through the feast, Adrian Lennox climbed the stage at the front of the hall, cleared his throat, and drew every eye in the room.
He held the microphone, gazing at Adrian Winslow beside him with undisguised adoration, his voice carrying clean and clear across the entire hall.
"Tonight, beyond celebrating my sixtieth year, there is one more matter to announce. Effective immediately, every asset under my name, every holding, every account, will transfer in full to my second daughter, Adrian Winslow."
The words settled over the room. A beat of silence, then the murmuring spread like smoke through the crowd.
"All of it to the younger daughter? What about the elder?"
"He's not leaving a single thing for his firstborn."
"Everyone always said the Bellandi house played favorites. Now we know it's worse than that."
I stood in the corner, listening, and a bitter smile found my lips before I could stop it.
Why?
I had asked myself that question a thousand times.
We were both his daughters. The same blood. And still they could tilt the scales this far without flinching.
A sudden tightness clamped down on my chest. I turned and left the hall. The deck outside was empty. Sea wind hit me full in the face, and some small measure of the pressure eased.
I leaned against the railing, staring out at the endless dark water.
Behind me, the sharp click of heels on the deck.
"Sister. What are you doing out here all alone?"
That familiar voice, threaded with quiet mockery, pulled me back. I turned. I didn't answer. I just looked at her.
Adrian Winslow didn't seem bothered. She walked toward me slowly, chin tilted upward, letting her gaze travel over me from head to foot.
"Don't you think you're pathetic, sister?"
Her tone was light, almost careless, but every word cut.