Ophelia stormed into the grand salon, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. The lingering scent of expensive perfume and the faint echo of hushed voices filled the air, remnants of the unwelcome visitors who had dared to trespass on her family's privacy. Her mother, Faye, sat in her usual armchair, her gaze distant, her expression fragile.
"Mother!" Ophelia's voice rang out, sharp and accusatory. "How could you allow those… those people into this house? Talking about our family business, our personal affairs, with complete strangers!"
Faye's eyes fluttered, her gaze shifting to Ophelia, her expression momentarily clearing. "Ophelia?" she whispered, her voice frail. "Is that you, Ophelia?"
"Yes, Mother, it is me," Ophelia said, her voice laced with exasperation. "And I am appalled that you would allow such a breach of decorum. This is our home, not some public forum for gossip and speculation."
