As soon as Brisa stepped into her room, the door slammed shut behind her with a loud thud. The moment the lock clicked, her sweet and friendly façade crumbled. She tossed her designer bag carelessly onto the bed, the contents shifting as it bounced once, then settled.
Snickering with disdain, Brisa muttered under her breath, "You think you can take the man I love from me? You're nothing but a pretty face with no history, no status, no background. I'll show you why you should never dare to compete with me."
Her fingers trembled slightly, not with fear, but with anticipation. She reached for her phone from the bag she'd just thrown aside. Unlocking it, she scrolled through her contacts and pressed on a number she had saved under no name, just a symbol—the danger symbol.
The line barely rang once before it connected.
