Evelyn couldn't help but smirk at the woman's confidence. Laila—no, Annabelle—was a master of her craft. She played her roles too well, almost like a chameleon slipping from one skin to the next.
"So you're no longer Sophia's pawn?" Evelyn asked with an amused lilt.
Annabelle chuckled, leaning back with a smugness that radiated her true self. "Pawn?" she scoffed. "She was my pawn. Do you really think I'd let myself be at her mercy? As a certified con artist, it wouldn't be fair if I didn't con her, too. Don't you think?"
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed but not fully convinced. "So, the artist finally outplayed her employer?"
"As an artist, the price was tempting," Annabelle admitted, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. "But stepping into your shoes? The luxury was far more tempting. That poor woman never stood a chance once I decided to betray her."
