The dinner invitation arrives on a Thursday morning in an elegant cream-colored envelope with Diana's name embossed in gold.
Maggie delivers it to my office personally, clutching her own matching envelope to her chest like a sacred relic. Her eyes are already glistening—happy tears, the kind she cries when someone acknowledges her existence in a meaningful way.
"She invited me too, Ms. Chen. ME. She called me 'an invaluable part of Lucas's support system.' No one's ever called me invaluable before." Maggie dabs at her eyes with a tissue. "Kevin says my tear production is up forty percent this week. He says it's a sign of emotional engagement."
