Chapter 58
Iris’s POV
“Well, if it isn’t our esteemed Mrs. Grey,” Nancy Thompson’s syrupy
voice made my skin crawl as I prepared to leave the dining room.
I turned to face Sebastien’s younger cousin, forcing a polite smile.
Her heavily applied smoky eyeshadow made her look like she’d been
punched twice–aging her by a good five years, which was a shame
since she couldn’t be more than nineteen. The aggressive shade of
lipstick clashed terribly with her undertone. My inner designer
cringed.
“Hello, Nancy,” I replied evenly, tucking my phone away after
Catherine’s manipulative call. “What a surprise.”
Nancy’s smile widened, showing too many teeth. “I heard you’ve been
working at Crescent Design lately. Megan told me all about it.” She let
out a tinkling laugh that sounded rehearsed. “She says your design.
skills are… well, let’s just say they’re pretty basic. I mean, we all know
how you got selected for that big project, right? Having the right…
connections must be nice.”
I felt a flicker of irritation but squashed it down. So Megan was using
Nancy as her messenger now? Pathetic.
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“Is that what Megan says?” I asked calmly, studying Nancy’s face. Her
eyes darted away from mine for a split second–a tell. “How
interesting.”
Nancy’s confidence seemed to waver at my lack of reaction, but she
quickly rallied. “Megan is the only female wolf Sebastien has ever
truly respected. Now that she’s back, you should probably watch your
step.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “She’s perfect for him,
you know. Everyone thinks so.”
I observed Nancy’s smug expression, noting how desperately she
wanted to see me crumble. It would have worked on the old Iris–the
one who came into this marriage thinking she could earn Sebastien’s
love with patience and submission. That Iris died a long time ago.
“Nancy,” I said with a small smile, “you seem very fond of Megan.”
Her eyes lit up at what she thought was an opening. “Of course! She’s
a hundred times better than you’ll ever be. She’s the one who
deserves to be Sebastien’s Luna.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “That’s so interesting. I’m just curious–if you
admire her so much, why did you spend the last two years trying to
copy my style?”
Nancy’s face froze. “I–what? I never-”
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“Your makeup right now,” I continued, keeping my voice light and
conversational. “That’s an exact copy of how I did mine at last year’s
winter gala. You even used the same shade of eyeshadow I did.
Though I’d recommend blending a bit more at the crease.”
Nancy’s scent turned chaotic, a mix of embarrassment and panic.
“That’s ridiculous! I would never-
“And your dress at the last family dinner,” I went on, “was identical to
the one I wore to Sebastien’s birthday celebration. You even asked me
where I bought it, remember?”
Nancy’s cheeks flushed an ugly red beneath her makeup. Her mouth
opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. I felt a little bad for her,
but not enough to stop.
“I still have the messages you sent me last year,” I said, pulling out
my phone and opening our chat history. “You asked me for makeup
tutorials and said you wanted to look ‘as elegant as my sister–in–law.‘
You mentioned how much you loved my gold wolf form too. Said it
was the prettiest you’d ever seen.”
“Give me that!” Nancy lunged for my phone, but I easily moved it out
of her reach.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” I said, tucking my phone away.
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“I was flattered, honestly.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You think you’re so special? You’re
nothing! You’re not even the Grey family Luna anymore! That title
will go to Megan soon enough!”
I stood up, smoothing down my dress. “Whether I am or not doesn’t
change the fact that my designs were selected on merit, not
connections.”
“You’re so full of yourself!” Nancy’s voice rose, attracting a few
glances from across the room. “Megan is right about you. You trapped
Sebastien with your schemes! You can’t give him strong wolf pups
anyway!”
I felt a twinge in my abdomen at that comment–my unborn child
responding to my spike of emotion. I took a deep breath to calm
myself.
“If I were so calculating and scheming,” I said quietly, “don’t you
think I’d be doing a better job of it? Would I really put myself in a
position to be insulted by you?”
That seemed to throw her. She blinked rapidly, trying to find a
comeback.
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“The truth is,” I continued, “I don’t particularly care who becomes
Sebastien’s Luna or what you think of me. It’s no longer my concern.”
I stood up, enjoying the way Nancy had to tilt her head back to
maintain eye contact. “And for what it’s worth,” I added, “that smoky
eye technique doesn’t suit your eye shape. You’d look much better
with a simpler look that enhances your natural features.”
Nancy’s mouth dropped open in shock. I could practically see the
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