The planning

Margaret leaned back in her chair, the flickering candlelight casting long, eerie shadows on the walls of the room. The air was thick with the scent of incense, but even that couldn't mask the bitterness that lingered in her heart. Dominic sat across from her, his eyes gleaming with a dark intensity as they began to discuss the next steps in their twisted plan.

"We can't rush into this," Dominic began, his voice measured and cold. "If we're going to take her down, we have to be smart about it. We need a plan that's foolproof, one that will leave no trace back to us."

Margaret nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. She had waited so long for this moment, for the chance to finally rid herself of Abigail. But Dominic was right—they needed to be careful, methodical. Abigail wasn't someone they could just kill in a fit of rage; it had to be planned, precise, and above all, untraceable.