Veronica's gaze flicked toward the maid—a young woman, maybe twenty-five, with sharp eyes and callused hands that suggested she was more than just domestic help.
The other servants shifted slightly, their attention focused on Veronica.
Waiting.
Veronica exhaled smoke slowly, rubbing her swollen cheek with one hand.
"Do you really think," she said softly, her voice hoarse, "I'll ever get a man like him?"
The servants' heads lowered.
"Power," Veronica continued, taking another drag. "That's all that matters. A man in power to support my underground business. I'm too old now to seduce someone 'more' powerful."
She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and broken.
"If you kill this guy, who am I going to make president? Huh?"
The maid didn't respond.
Veronica was about to take another drag when one of the other servants approached, holding a small package.
"My Lady," the servant said carefully. "This just arrived. It's addressed to Young Master Victor."
