The pristine, minimalist lines of Violet Bento’s villa, a monument to cold ambition, became the stage for a brutal unraveling. Ceci’s desperate plea had curdled into horrified comprehension. The veil was torn away, and she saw the woman before her not as a benefactor, but as a puppeteer who had guided her hands toward her own destruction.

“You were so affectionate to me before!” Ceci’s voice escalated into a shrill, hysterical shriek, her finger jabbing accusingly at Violet. “All ...