Veronica’s bedroom was bigger than your entire living room. Silk sheets, designer throw pillows, and a chandelier that probably cost more than your car. You sat cross-legged on her bed, flipping through a magazine while Betty scrolled on her phone and Cheryl admired her reflection in a gold-trimmed mirror.

“I still can’t believe you live like this,” you said, stretching out on the silk.

Veronica smirked. “Daddy likes the finer things.”

“Understatement of the year,” Betty muttered.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. A second later, Hiram Lodge appeared in the doorway, dressed sharply as ever. The air in the room changed immediately.

“Ladies,” he greeted smoothly. “Behaving yourselves?”

Veronica sighed. “Dad, we’re not twelve.”

He chuckled. “Good. Then I trust there won’t be any… unexpected incidents tonight.” His gaze flickered between you, Betty, and Cheryl—just long enough to make your stomach flip.

“Of course not, Mr. Lodge,” you said quickly.

“Excellent.” He turned to leave, then paused. “Veronica—no sneaking out. You have everything you need right here.”

As soon as he was gone, Cheryl let out a dramatic sigh. “Your dad is terrifying.”

Veronica groaned. “Tell me about it.”

Betty sat up. “I don’t know how you live like this. If my mom even looked at me like that, I’d break out in hives.”

You grinned. “At least we have an intimidating amount of luxury to distract us.”

Veronica tossed a silk pillow at you. “Exactly. Now, who’s up for face masks and The Devil Wears Prada?”

Just like that, the eerie moment passed, replaced by laughter, gossip, and the kind of late-night chaos only a Lodge sleepover could bring.