Racheal stood by the window, staring out at the flickering city lights, a cigarette smoldering between her fingers.
The air was thick with the scent of smoke, but she hardly noticed. Her lips curled into a cold, calculating smile as she downed the last of her whiskey. Tonight would be the beginning of Victor and Evelyn’s end.
Her fingers tapped lightly against the glass as she reached for the phone. She dialed the number with a slow precision, the anticipation buzzing in her veins. The phone rang, and when the voice on the other end picked up, it was casual—too casual.
“Matt here? What’s going on?”
His nonchalance grated against her like nails on a chalkboard. Racheal’s smirk deepened as she flicked the ash from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing. He has no idea what’s coming.
"Matt."
