(Third Person).
Wanda's car screeched softly as it rolled to a halt at the driveway of the estate, but the anger on her face outshone any afternoon glow.
She slammed the car door shut, her heels clicking against the stone pavement as she marched away. Just then, a house servant crossed the driveway with his head bowed.
Without a second of hesitation, Wanda snapped, "You. Get my bags from the trunk. Take them to my room. Carefully."
"Yes, ma'am," the servant said, hurrying toward the vehicle.
Wanda paused just long enough to ask, "Where's Dennis?"
"At the stables, ma'am."
Almost immediately, her heels cut through the silence as she made her way down the familiar path to the stables, brushing past hedges and gravel. Her fists were clenched at her sides.
The taste of rage hadn't left her since she walked out of that blood-splattered surveillance room.
