The room felt charged with a tension I couldn’t shake. I looked at Ivy, her eyes wide and confused, clutching her glittery card like a lifeline. I knelt down, hugging her tightly. “You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. You’re perfect, remember that.”
As I escorted Ivy to the kids’ table, ignoring Eleanor’s pointed glances, I couldn’t help but feel an eerie anticipation. Eleanor had always been the puppet master, pulling strings and weaving chaos into our lives. But tonight, it felt like she was orchestrating something bigger.
