As soon as Gaga left, Delilah's phone buzzed, and a notification popped up.
The credit alert read ten million dollars.
Delilah's grin widened, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
Later that night, Delilah and Ruby strutted into one of the city's most luxurious clubs, both dressed in sleek mini dresses.
The black gloves they wore added a touch of mystery to their look, ensuring they blended into the crowd without drawing too much attention.
The neon lights pulsed in sync with the music as they made their way through the lively crowd.
A voice crackled through their earbuds—it was Helen, back at the café, monitoring everything through a set of computers.
"Mr. Bayou’s at the elite table, six o’clock, surrounded by five bodyguards," Helen reported smoothly. "He's watching the dance
