The door swung open, a sharp creak breaking the heavy silence, and Mrs. Priscilla stepped into the room. Her heels clicked ominously on the polished marble floor, each step deliberate, like a warning. Her face was a mask of calm fury—cold, rigid, and unyielding. Linda, who had been standing near the window, turned at the sound, her shoulders tensing. For a fleeting moment, she seemed taken aback, but she quickly concealed it with a defiant lift of her chin, meeting Priscilla's gaze head-on.
"Look who we have here; what do we owe this invitation to," Linda said with a mischievous smile.
"Linda," Mrs. Priscilla began, her voice a deadly calm laced with iron. "We had an agreement." She paused, letting her words hang in the air like a blade ready to drop. "The truth was supposed to stay buried. Brian was never meant to know." She took another step closer, her eyes narrowing into slits. "Yet here we are. Why did you go behind my back?"
