The convoy of sleek, black SUVs arrived in flawless synchronization, gliding up the cobblestone driveway of the venue where the charity event was hosted.
Bright, ambient floodlights bathed the exterior of the estate in a warm, golden glow, illuminating high arched windows, marble pillars, and cascading floral arrangements of white hydrangeas and silver eucalyptus. The security detail was a tightly controlled unit, moving with military precision to direct traffic, clear the driveway, and hold back the eager press line gathered at the perimeter.
Once the ignition was killed, Gianna sat quietly in her seat for a moment. She reached up, her fingers tenderly tracing the smooth, cool contours of her mother's pendant resting against her collarbone. She had deliberately chosen it—an anchor of strength and purpose as she stepped into the lion's den to play spy.
Chelsea glanced over at her, offering a warm, supportive smile. "Feeling okay, Gianna?"
