The rooftop of La Lune d’Or glimmered in gold as the sun set over LA. Crystal glasses clinked, diamonds sparkled at every wrist, and the scent of imported roses floated in the warm air. You slid into the velvet booth, the youngest and newest agent among the city’s real estate royalty.

Seated with you were:

Valentina Devereaux – elegant, icy, old money

Sienna Beaumont – loud confidence, Beverly Hills dynasty

Arielle Monroe – influencer realtor, always filming

Genevieve Clairmont – flawlessly polished, ruthless negotiator

And, of course, trouble:

Chantal Moretti & Bianca Langford – ex–best friends turned silent enemies.

Valentina lifted her champagne flute, pretending to be serene. “Well,” she said, “isn’t this charming?”

The menus weren’t even closed before Chantal leaned back with a scoff. “Bianca, I heard about your little crying incident at the brokerage yesterday. Did the seller say no to your fake smile again?”

Bianca’s jaw tightened. “At least I don’t use Daddy’s name to close deals. Some of us actually work.”

Arielle immediately: “Oh my god, are we doing this again—”

Sienna set down her fork with a clack. “No, because Bianca literally accused her of emotional manipulation last week.”

“Because she literally does.” Bianca fired back.

Suddenly everyone was talking over everyone, voices rising:

“—You’re insecure—” “—You’re jealous of her listings—” “—Don’t pretend you earned that commission—” “—Oh PLEASE—”

Champagne nearly spilled. A tourist at the next table began recording.

You sat there, the only calm one, watching chaos bloom like wildfire. The server approached you cautiously.

“Um… what would you like to order?”

You looked up.