When the doors slid open, I saw Antoinette sitting in the corner of the lobby.

The hotel lobby was quiet, decorated in muted tones of brown and gold.

Antoinette sat on a high-backed leather chair, her spine perfectly straight.

She wore a dark green tailored suit, a silk scarf tied neatly around her neck.

Her leather handbag sat on her lap, her gloved hands resting on top of it.

She looked like a queen visiting a peasant outpost.

I walked over and sat in the armchair opposite her.

“Antoinette,” I said.

She did not smile.

She looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my simple flat shoes.

“You look tired, Amelia,” she said, her voice smooth and devoid of warmth.

“I’ve had a busy few days,” I replied.

“This circus you are creating has to end,” she said, leaning forward slightly.

The scent of her expensive lavender perfume drifted across the small space between us.

“I am protecting myself and my daughter,” I said.

“You are destroying a family name that took generations to build,” she said.