This is not happening

Chloe stood in front of the couch, arms folded, eyes burning with the kind of wild determination that came from desperation and ambition mixed in one volatile cocktail. Ayisha was pacing, glancing between Chloe and Tessa, who sat stiffly at the dining table, her face unreadable.

“I don’t think I heard you right,” Tessa said finally, her voice calm but sharp enough to slice glass. “You said… what?”

Chloe exhaled, brushing her hair back with a shaky hand. ...