Page 8 of Hero's Heart

Danielle snorted. “It’s like something from a decade ago. Vintage, maybe?”

“Not even,” Marissa chimed in, glancing sideways at Sloane. “That’s just her style. She’s…minimalist.”

The three dissolved into laughter. Sloane’s cheeks burned, but she kept her gaze fixed on her coffee cup. She’d chosen her outfit carefully to travel—a soft cream sweater and a floral skirt—but it couldn’t compare to their tailored dresses and luxury accessories.

“Doesn’t she get tired of looking like she shops in the clearance bin?” Courtney whispered, as if Sloane weren’t sitting right there and couldn’t hear her perfectly.

Sloane gripped the handle of her cup tightly. She wanted to get up and leave, to escape the humiliation, but she couldn’t. As always, she was trapped.

Danielle leaned in toward Marissa. “You’re so patient, Marissa. I don’t know how you put up with her.”

Marissa smirked. “I’ve had years of practice.”

Sloane’s throat tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. She knew better than to react; it only fueled Marissa’s cruelty.

“Oh, speaking of patience,” Danielle said, stirring her cappuccino with a delicate silver spoon. “You won’t believe what my mother had the audacity to say before I left. She actually expects me to spend the summer working at my dad’s office. Like, filing papers or something equally degrading. I told her, ‘Do you know how much therapy that would cost me?’”

Courtney gasped in mock horror. “Ew, like a real job? That’s criminal. I thought your parents loved you.”

“Right?” Danielle rolled her eyes dramatically. “They just don’t understand how exhausting my life already is. I had to book this trip between two galas and that charity brunch I hosted for…what was it again? Oh, right, stray cats or something.”

Marissa leaned back in her chair, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “At least your parents pretend to care about your schedule. Mine are all, ‘You’re so lucky to have time to travel.’Lucky? I earned this trip. Do they not understand how hard it was to keep my GPA above a 2.0 with everything else I had going on?”

“I still don’t get why your dad made you bring her.” Danielle nodded toward Sloane.

Marissa sighed, exasperated. “Apparently, I can’t be trusted to cross the street without her keeping tabs on me. Daddy dearest is convinced I’ll run off to Ibiza or something.”

Marissa had never told her friends the truth about Sloane’s position in the family. They knew Sloane had shown up destitute five years ago, but they’d assumed the family had taken her in out of the kindness of their hearts.

Not that they considered Sloane a thief and were prepared to send her to prison if she didn’t follow their every whim and demand.

Courtney raised an eyebrow. “Would you run off to Ibiza?”

Marissa grinned. “Only if the company was right.”

Courtney giggled. “Well, speaking of distractions, you wouldn’t believe what happened to me last week. Remember Jeremy? The one with the yacht?”

Danielle’s eyes widened. “Yes! What happened with him?”

Courtney smirked, savoring the attention. “So, he flew me out to Miami for the weekend. His yacht? Stunning. His ex-girlfriend? Not stunning. She showed up at the marina and made this whole dramatic scene. I mean, honestly, how insecure can you be? It’s not my fault she wasn’t invited.”

Marissa laughed. “Classic. What did Jeremy do?”

“Oh, he told her to leave, obviously,” Courtney said, inspecting her manicure. “But the best part? She tried to throw her drink at me and missed. Splashed her own dress instead. I just stood there, sipping my rosé, like, ‘Who’s the real winner here?’”

The table erupted in laughter, their voices rising above the gentle hum of the café.

Sloane kept her eyes on the street outside, watching the tourists wander by, doing her best to drown out the chatter.

Marissa sipped her mimosa. “My big news is that I’m focusing on me for the rest of the year. I’ve decided to curate my Paris photos very carefully. There’s this influencer I follow who posts nothing but Paris content, and she has, like, a million followers. If I can replicate her vibe, I could totally hit fifty thousand by the end of the trip.”

Danielle clapped her hands together. “Ooh, yes! You should do a shoot by the Seine. I brought my DSLR—you’ll look amazing.”

Marissa beamed. “Finally, someone who gets it.”

Sloane shrank farther into her chair, wishing she could disappear entirely. This wasn’t the Paris she’d dreamed of—the city of lights, love, and art. It was just another stage for Marissa and her friends to show off, and she was the unwilling audience.

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine walking away, wandering the city on her own. She could visit the Louvre, spending hours with the art. Or maybe sit in a quiet park or lose herself in the charm of Montmartre.

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