Richard was a “consultant.” Bella was a “lifestyle curator.” Neither of them actually produced anything, but they were very good at spending money. Money that Richard assumed came from his “hard work” and savvy investments.

He didn’t know the investments were me.

I sat quietly, sipping a glass of tap water (the champagne was for “VIPs,” Bella had told the server), watching my son laugh with a group of tech bros.

Then, Bella appeared.

She was wearing a gold sequined dress that looked like liquid metal. She had a glass of red wine in one hand and a look of horror on her face.

She marched over to me.

“Margaret!” she hissed.

I looked up. “Yes, dear? It’s a lovely party.”

“What are you doing?” she snapped, pointing at the sofa.

“I’m… sitting?”

“On the Cloud sofa?” She looked at my grey wool skirt. “You’ve been gardening today, haven’t you?”