Dragnelle lowered the binoculars, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. There was a satisfaction in watching from afar, knowing that every step she had taken today, every observation made, had led her one step closer to unraveling the complex web she was so expertly weaving. "Some days," she murmured softly to herself, "the odds are just on your side."
Her gaze shifted back to the yacht, and she allowed herself a moment to savor the sight before she turned her attention to the smaller boat drifting away from the larger vessel. Mioura was stepping down onto it with a sense of briskness, her movements sharp and calculated, despite the way the boat rocked with the waves. Even from this distance, Dragnelle could sense the tension emanating from the younger woman—the kind of tight, controlled posture that was almost desperate to maintain power, to control every small detail, even as it slipped through her fingers.
"Tough day on the yacht," Dragnelle muttered, her voice tinged with a dry amusement. Through the binoculars, she watched Mioura's frantic gestures as she interacted with Mickaël, who was standing stiffly on the deck. His sunglasses concealed his expression, but the discomfort he radiated was palpable, especially when Mioura had tried to kiss him earlier. The awkwardness of the moment was evident even from this distance—it was the kind of staged performance that they didn't intend to fool anyone but themselves.
Dragnelle's focus shifted to the Madam, who stood with an effortless grace at the edge of the yacht. Her barefoot stance, her flowing white skirt fluttering gently in the breeze, and the way she commanded attention without ever asking for it—it was clear that the Madam was as untouchable as the yacht she owned. She bent slightly to speak to Mioura before the younger woman left, her words invisible but her tone undeniably firm. Mioura nodded in response, but Dragnelle could sense the underlying tension in that gesture.
As Mioura's boat began to drift further away, Dragnelle lowered the binoculars, her fingers briefly caressing the worn leather of her bag before she slipped the device back inside. She stood there for a moment, watching as the yacht and its passengers became smaller on the horizon. A plan, a thread of something much larger, was already forming in her mind. She could feel the pieces clicking together, the dynamic between power, control, and manipulation unfolding as she had hoped.
"Let's see how far that control extends," Dragnelle murmured, the words a quiet promise, her voice laced with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.
With a deliberate motion, she adjusted the carved cane in her grip, feeling its familiar weight settle into her hand. Her steps were steady as she turned away from the pier, her mind already moving forward, weaving her next steps into the complex tapestry of her long-game plan. The sea breeze whispered around her, carrying the faintest echoes of laughter from the untouchable world she was slowly—and expertly—unraveling.