Tangled Destinies
Annabelle took her time, stirring her tea with a deliberate air of calmness as she watched Rachel from the corner of her eye. Across the table, Rachel sat stiffly, her hands resting in her lap, the only betrayal of her unease being the slight trembling in her fingers. Annabelle glanced up briefly, noting the tension in Rachel's jaw, the way she refused to meet her gaze. It was amusing, really—this woman, who thrived on manipulation and deceit, was fidgeting before her without Annabelle needing to lift a finger. Annabelle couldn’t help the satisfaction that curled through her.