The Grand Crystal Ballroom of Northwood City was blindingly bright, a suffocating sea of soft clinking champagne glasses, the elegant hum of a live orchestra, and the hollow chatter of the city’s elite. Tonight was a celebration of a theft. Eleanor Mercer and her daughter, Olivia, were hosting a lavish charity gala to mark the launch of their new multi-million dollar business venture—a venture funded entirely by bleeding the Mercer estate dry.
Eleanor stood near the grand marble staircase, a glass of expensive vintage wine caught between her manicured fingers, her face glowing with absolute triumph. "Everything is perfect, Olivia," she whispered to her daughter, a cruel, satisfied smirk playing on her lips. "With that useless blind girl out of the picture permanently, this entire empire
