The green light on the access control blinked, and my stomach dropped.

Madame Wellington swept through the door before either of us could speak. Even past midnight, she looked immaculately composed— still cloaked in the heavy yellow dress she had worn to the gala. Her silver hair was pulled back in her signature chignon, she had taken off the head gear, and it perhaps made her look less vindictive, but her eyes remained sharp as broken glass.

"Well," she said. "Isn't this a charming little ...