(Third Person).
Wanda stood before the mirror, tilting her chin slightly as her reflection stared back at her, polished, poised, and perfect, just as she had always been trained to be.
The white dress she wore stopped neatly at her knees, its fabric smooth against her skin. But even in its elegance, it did nothing to hide the faint tension in her eyes.
With a sigh, she reached for the ivory blazer draped across the chair and set it lightly over her shoulders. Then, she grabbed her handbag, her phone, and walked toward the door, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
As she descended the grand staircase, sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the golden curls framing her face.
She unlocked her phone with a practiced swipe, scrolling through her contacts until she found the name she had avoided for weeks, and had been trying to reach since morning, Draven.
Her thumb hovered over it for a moment.
