The dining room buzzed with chatter and clinking glasses, but I felt detached, my mind spinning with Eleanor’s cryptic words. What could she possibly mean? Ivy not being part of the family tradition—what tradition? My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a spoon clinking against a glass.
Eleanor stood at the head of the table, her presence commanding attention. “Everyone, if I may have your attention, please.” The room fell silent, eyes on her.
