The second Rambo strutted in, the whole room froze. Not a peep from the crowd.
I flicked a look at Robert, the butler, and jerked my chin at the door. He got the hint and opened it. With a little smirk, I let the iron chain slide through my fingers. “Told you before—this isn’t your playground. Scram.”
Brenda Bart shrieked and stormed over. “Claire Sinclair! What are you doing! These are my friends!”
Her panicked little act only made me grin wider. “Your friends, your birthday—what’s that got to do with my family?”
Brenda gasped sharply; her eyes went wide. “Didn’t you hear me? Tie up that stupid dog! Everyone’s here for my party. Even if you’re jealous, don’t ruin the vibe!”
The crowd murmured like a flock of pigeons, falling for her fake innocence. I didn’t even blink, just started pacing with Rambo, steering Brenda’s guests toward the exit.
“Jealous?” I scoffed. “Of you? Please. Why would I envy the maid’s kid who doesn’t even know who her dad is?”
Once, I’d called Brenda family. Now, seeing her cheeks flush deep red as I aired her dirty laundry? That was just justice.
“You’re lying!” she screamed, voice cracking. “Claire, you… you’re just a dog trainer! How dare you twist the truth like this!”
