Chapter 70: All The Best
Lizzie
The question lingered in the air long after Penelope said it.
Not because of its simplicity but because of the intention behind it, the careful, almost surgical way she had placed Reese’s name between us like bait, like she was waiting—quietly, patiently—for one of us to react just a second too quickly, to give her something she could take and twist into whatever narrative she had already begun constructing in that calculating mind of hers.
The longer the silence stretched, the more obvious it became that this wasn’t curiosity, not even close, but strategy, something deliberate and probing that made the back of my neck prickle with unease.
Did she know about the wedding? Or was this just another one of Penelope’s calculated games, the kind she probab
