"Jennifer," Helena said warmly, her voice smooth as warm honey, as though this were a pleasant family reunion and not a break-in at a secluded estate. "What a lovely surprise. I didn't expect to see you tonight."
"Where's my mother?" Jennifer asked directly, her voice cutting through the pleasantries like a serrated blade.
Helena didn't flinch. She didn't even acknowledge the question. Instead, she tilted her head, her expression softening into a look of tragic, doting concern.
"Oh, look at you, darling," she cooed, reaching out as if to brush a stray hair from Jennifer's forehead, though her hand hovered just inches from the skin. "You look absolutely exhausted. The city air does terrible things to one's complexion, doesn't it? You're pale as a ghost."
She clasped her hands together, radiating a sickeningly perfect hospitality.
