She rose from the bed and walked slowly to the mirror, eyeing herself—not with vanity, but with cold calculation. Her expression was calm, but her mind raced like a silent storm. She couldn't let emotions cloud her judgment. She had seen enough to know that love, on its own, was never enough. Influence… control… leverage—those were the real currencies in relationships like this.
She picked up her phone again and dialed a number—a private investigator she had worked with before. Someone discreet. Ruthless. Effective.
"It's me," she said quietly.
"Yes, ma'am," the voice replied.
"I need everything you can find on Abigail Wright. Everything. Family, financials, business affiliations, even her school friends. And keep this under the radar. If she's as clean as she seems, dig deeper. Nobody's that clean."
"Understood. You'll hear from me within 48 hours."
She ended the call and exhaled. Two days. That was all she needed.
