Doña Victoria sat at the head table, flanked by her three sisters and seven of her eldest nieces.

Paola sat four seats down, tapping her acrylic nails against an ice bucket while two waiters cleared the empty lunch plates.

“She took three legal folders out of the desk before she left the house,” Doña Victoria said, her voice carrying clearly across the terrace.

“She’s been quietly copying our business papers for months.”

A cousin in a white linen blazer set her glass down with a sharp clink.

“And she had the nerve to send formal dinner invitations to thirty-two people?”