Racheal stood by the window, the city sprawled below her like a glittering web of false promises and broken dreams. The distant hum of traffic blended with the soft crackle of her cigarette, a haze of smoke curling upward and cloaking her like an aura of defiance. Her lips curled into a calculated smile, cold and unyielding, as she swirled the last sip of whiskey in her glass before letting the sharp liquid burn its way down her throat.

Tonight would be the beginning of Victor and Evelyn’s fall—a symphony of destruction she had orchestrated with precision.

The cool glass beneath her fingers vibrated faintly as she tapped it rhythmically,...