Calculated Moves

VANESSA

The car ride to the Mercer estate was smooth, but my mind was racing with possibilities.

I leaned back against the leather seat, my fingers tapping idly against my lap. This visit had to go exactly as planned. Every word, every glance, every pause—I needed to be careful, strategic. Beatrice Mercer wasn’t a woman who could be easily manipulated, but she was predictable. She wanted what was