With slow, measured, and deliberate steps, Jessica closed the door behind her gently as she stepped into the brightly lit hallway. Her eyes scanned both ends of the corridor. As expected—no sign of Tricia. A faint knowing smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
Her expression remained indifferent as she adjusted the hem of her dress with casual elegance and headed toward one direction—the restroom.
Turning toward the restroom, she spotted Tricia rushing into one of the ladies' rooms, her face painted in feigned distress. Jessica's smile deepened. She didn't need confirmation.
The scene that had just unfolded inside wasn't surprising—Tricia's melodramatic exit, her feigned tears, the carefully timed gasp that had drawn sympathetic glances is just a means of painting her the villain.
This she had expected from her following her attitude towards her since she arrived with Davis.
