“I’m realistic,” Vanessa shot back, the sound of ice clinking in crystal highball glasses echoing across the partition. “I’ve been trying to win him over for months. Men like Ethan don’t marry women like Olivia unless they’re looking for someone safe and domestic to manage their estates. I’m just helping him fix his mistake before the minister signs the register.”
A third voice—Beatrice Sterling, whose family controlled private equity across Manhattan—chimed in:
“Do you honestly think he’d choose you over Olivia if she walks down that aisle?”
“He already came close at the yacht club gala in September,” Vanessa boasted, her tone thick with intoxicated hubris. “He was two drinks away from taking me to the guest pavilion. Once her dress is ruined and the ceremony is delayed, Ethan will see her for what she really is—a fragile, panicked little schoolteacher who can’t handle pressure. I have the replacement rings in my purse. I will step in as the stabilizer. She won’t know what hit her.”
