~Narrator’s~

“There’s always someone ready to smile in your face while sliding the knife in.”

The air inside the conference room feels off. It’s too manufactured, too curated. Something about the perfect symmetry of the chairs and the untouched carafe of water at the center of the table screams fake.

Adele walks in first. She glides like the snake she is. Her hair is perfectly curled and her lips are painted that deceitful red. She hums under her breath like she’s bored, but her eyes are too sharp today. Too excited.

She pulls a slim folder from her oversized purse and places it right on Blair’s chair. Then she sits,...