Lisa looked at the card, showing neither excitement nor confusion.

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Covington,” Lisa said smoothly.

“It’s proper etiquette, so there are no misunderstandings about your attendance,” Ava added, wanting the words to sting like a needle.

When Ava walked back to her friends, the group burst into cruel laughter.

“Did she actually accept the invitation?” Chloe asked eagerly.

“Of course she accepted,” Ava replied with a smirk. “People of her social standing never realize when they’re being used for entertainment.”

Nobody noticed that the moment Lisa was alone, she slipped the invitation into her pocket and exhaled slowly.

That night, in her modest apartment in the working-class neighborhood of East Nashville, Lisa showered and sat silently on her small bed. She read the golden letters on the invitation card one more time.

Then she dialed a telephone number she’d memorized years ago.

“Hello?” a deep, powerful voice answered, carrying the heavy accent of a traditional Montana ranch owner.

“Grandpa, it’s time,” Lisa said softly into the receiver.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.