If she dared to hit back, she wouldn't make it out of this hotel alive tonight.
Forget the Thorne family—anyone in this room would gladly step up to defend Lydia.
A flash of triumphant malice flickered in Lydia's eyes, though her face was the picture of deep remorse. "I'm so sorry, I acted far too rashly."
This wasn't Juniper's first rodeo; whenever Lydia was involved, her tactics were always this sickeningly manipulative.
More importantly, Juniper wasn't even sure if Josie's fall was her fault—she had merely pulled her hand away in a panic.
If she hadn't caused it, that meant the child had fallen on purpose.
But how could a four-year-old girl be capable of such calculated malice?
She didn't believe it, and no one in this room would ever believe it either.
Juniper was completely cornered, unable to defend herself.
Lydia let out a heavy sigh, offering a polite nod to the surrounding guests before apologizing to Juniper again, the vicious amusement in her eyes visible only to Juniper.
Lydia stepped closer, her voice dropping to a toxic whisper. "Haven't you figured it out yet? You don't belong here. Not a single person in this room accepts you. Lower-class trash belongs in the gutter. Stop dreaming of climbing the social ladder."
The moment the words left her mouth, a warm, elegant voice rang out nearby. "Juniper?"
The crowd turned to see Mrs. Thorne approaching.
Mrs. Thorne looked remarkably youthful, radiating the effortless grace of high society.

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