Anna's POV
"Ms. Shaw, the Simpsons have requested your presence at their residence immediately."
The message flashed across my phone screen, stark and direct.
I stared at it for a few seconds, thumb hovering over the screen. I could feel the slow curl of irritation wrapping around my chest. Then I typed my reply with clipped precision:
"I'll be there in an hour."
From across the room, Rachel looked up from her laptop, brows furrowing in concern. "You're actually going?"
"Know your enemy," I said coolly, gathering my coat and phone. "And right now, the Simpsons are definitely the enemy."
The drive to the Simpson estate felt longer than usual, each minute dragged down by the weight of anticipation. As my car rolled past the towering wrought iron gates and crunched over the gravel driveway, I spotted Lucy's sleek black sedan parked right at the entrance. Front and center.
Not just a coincidence.
A declaration.
She was staking her claim.
