Cynthia's mind raced as she pieced together the strange connections. The old man, the mysterious Jim, and now Monica—everything seemed more complicated than she had imagined. She couldn't deny that part of her curiosity was piqued. What did Albert Wilson really want with her family? Was he playing some twisted game?
Monica, seemingly impervious to Cynthia's guarded demeanor, leaned closer, a sly smile playing on her lips as she toyed with the idea of a drink. The invitation hung in the air, almost too tempting to ignore.
Cynthia narrowed her eyes at Monica, still not fully trusting her. "You really think you're the only one who can read him?" she asked skeptically, her tone betraying just a hint of doubt.
Monica winked, her confidence unwavering. "Believe me, honey. I know more about my boss than anyone else. And I'm pretty sure I can guess what's on your mind."
