The morning sun streamed through the windows of the Cape Cod rental house, casting a soft golden glow over the absolute disaster that was Leighton Murray and her accomplices. Empty wine glasses littered the coffee table. A half-eaten charcuterie board sat abandoned on the kitchen counter. Whitney Chase was still asleep on the couch, one leg thrown over the backrest like a dead body at a crime scene.

Kimberly Finkle was sitting on the floor, staring blankly at her phone screen like she had just seen a ghost. Bela Malhotra was half-draped over an armchair, sleepily scrolling through her notifications. And Leighton? Leighton was very much awake—because today was a new day, and she was ready for more chaos.

She took a long, dramatic sip of her iced coffee and clapped her hands together. "Alright, ladies. Time to rise and ruin lives."

Whitney groaned from the couch. "I'm begging you to shut up."

Kimberly slowly blinked. "What are we doing?"

Leighton grinned. "Oh, you'll love this. We're going to the Winbury estate."

Bela, eyes widening, sat up immediately. "Leighton. Be serious."

Whitney peeked an eye open. "Are we robbing them?"

Leighton rolled her eyes. "No, you psychopaths. We've been invited."

Kimberly rubbed her eyes. "By who?"

Leighton leaned against the counter, smug as hell. "By Greer Winbury herself."

A beat of silence.

Bela screamed into a pillow. "NO. WAY."

Whitney bolted upright. "She actually likes you?"

Leighton smirked. "Oh, sweetheart. She adores me."

Kimberly gaped. "Wait, wait—so we're just waltzing into Thomas's family home like we're guests?"

Leighton shrugged. "Correction: we are guests."

Bela grabbed her phone. "Oh, I need to document this."

Within the hour, they were in the car, heading straight for the Winbury estate.

Whitney, looking out the window as they approached, gasped. "Oh my god. This house is giving Downton Abbey."

Kimberly clutched her chest. "They live like this while we're paying four dollars for oat milk?"

Leighton smirked. "Try not to look impressed. We have to act like we belong."

Bela leaned forward. "Leighton, you're the only one who can fake being this rich. I once had an emotional breakdown over the price of a salad."

They pulled up to the grand entrance, and before they even had time to fully process the sheer luxury of the Winbury estate, the front doors opened gracefully, revealing Greer Winbury herself.

"Leighton, darling," Greer greeted smoothly, dressed in what could only be described as casual, effortless wealth. "You're just in time. Breakfast is ready."

Bela whispered to Whitney, horrified. "They eat breakfast like it's an event."

Leighton turned to the girls and gestured dramatically. "Ladies, meet Greer Winbury. Greer, meet my absolute menaces to society."

Greer smiled at them like they were delightful new accessories. "Oh, I do love young energy in this house. Come in."

Kimberly whispered, "Are we infiltrating or just existing at this point?"

Bela grinned. "Both. We are both."

They stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer extravagance.

Whitney looked around and clutched her chest. "This foyer alone costs more than my entire net worth."

Kimberly eyed the marble staircase. "That staircase is so big, you could push someone down it and legally call it an 'accident.'"

Bela ran a hand over an antique table. "I think this table is older than America."

Leighton beamed. "Welcome to the lifestyle."

Greer led them into the kitchen, where a spread fit for royalty was laid out—freshly baked croissants, smoked salmon, poached eggs, coffee steaming in delicate china cups.

Bela grabbed Whitney's arm. "I'm going feral. They have actual silverware! Not IKEA cutlery—real silverware."

Whitney whispered back, "This meal is richer than my entire family tree."

As the girls settled in, Greer observed them with amusement. "You all seem fascinated by the estate."

Kimberly, still in awe, shook her head. "I'm just trying to understand how people live like this and still have bad days."

Greer chuckled. "Money doesn't solve everything, darling."

Bela gestured at the house. "I disagree."

Just then, footsteps echoed through the hallway.

The rest of the Winbury family entered the kitchen one by one—Tag, looking his usual stoic self; Benji, smirking at the sight of the girls; and finally, Thomas, who froze immediately upon seeing them.

His eye twitched.

"What the hell are they doing here?"

Leighton grinned. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

Thomas looked around in disbelief, waiting for someone—anyone—to be as horrified as he was.

But his family?

They all looked delighted.

Greer poured herself another cup of coffee, calm as ever. "I invited them."

Thomas nearly choked. "You what?"

Benji, already enjoying this too much, smirked. "Yeah, man. They're cool."

Abby, walking in behind them, grinned. "Oh, I love them."

Thomas looked like he was going to combust. "ARE YOU ALL INSANE?"

Whitney, sipping orange juice, feigned pure innocence. "Thomas, relax. We're just here for breakfast."

Thomas glared at her. "You. You're the worst one."

Kimberly gasped. "Wow. Hurtful."

Bela, watching him unravel, whispered to Leighton, "This is better than any soap opera."

Thomas turned back to Greer. "Mother. You do realize these girls are terrorizing me, right?"

Greer stirred her coffee. "Oh, don't be dramatic, Thomas."

Thomas let out a dry laugh, running a hand down his face. "Dramatic? Dramatic? They have made my life a living hell! And now you're hosting them?"

Leighton leaned back in her chair, grinning like a villain in a Bond movie. "You're just mad because we won."

Thomas narrowed his eyes at her, seething.

"You," he hissed, "are the most evil bitch I have ever met."

Leighton beamed.

"Oh, Thomas," she purred, "you flatter me."