It had been a rough few months young Veronica St. Cloud. While she had convinced her mother Belinda to raise her monthly inheritance allowance up from five-thousand a month to fifteen-thousand, she found herself still struggling to make ends meet between her luxury apartment rental, her weekend trips to Europe, her lavish meals, weekly spa treatments, and expensive shopping habits. Only fifteen-thousand dollars a month? Just what kind of peasant lifestyle was she supposed to live?

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just Belinda that had to be convinced, but also her father’s widow, her once step-mother Maité, who was left with partial control of Veronica’s inheritance. It was high time that Veronica just paid the b***h a visit.

The private elevator to Maité’s penthouse opened up into the living room, which was surprisingly empty. Veronica took off her coat on her own and held it out, waiting for a butler to receive it – but nobody came.

Just what kind of lowlife operation is she running in this household? No butler to take her coat? No charcuterie and hors d’oeuvres at the cocktail table? And what does a girl need to do around here to be handed a glass of champagne with freshly cut strawberries?

This was her father’s old residence, and this level of low maintenance that she was being treated with appalled Veronica. She was forced to put her coat on the rack by herself as she wandered around the five-bedroom three-bathroom flat looking for its single resident, but Maité was nowhere to be found.

She stomped a Jimmy Choo clad heel on the hardwood floors for attention, but not a single servant responded. Disappointed, she marched into her father’s former office to lie down – the couch in there was the most comfortable, with throw pillows made of Shih Tzu puppy fur finely-sewn together with micro-stitching that only child hands of sweatshops could craft.

“What has my life become?” she bemoaned as she turned her head towards her father’s desk. It was months ago that she found him in that chair, freshly murdered. She frowned at that thought. She missed him, dearly.

He was much looser with the pocketbook than Belinda or Maité.

“Oh father…,” she started as her mind trailed off. A few moments of silence were broken by a strange noise coming from a bookshelf – a low hum coming from one the books. It was brief, but clear. While Veronica was no expert on novels, she was fairly certain that they didn’t make that kind of noise. Intrigued, she moved to the bookshelf only for the noise to occur once more – a clear vibration coming from inside one of the books: The Godfather.

She pulled the book from the shelf and opened it – it was hollow, the pages cut out in the middle, but a cellphone left inside with a new text alert.

“Landed in Greece. Will take care of the target tomorrow night. Deposit the money.”

Peculiar. Who was this text message for? What was this text message about? Belinda was in Greece…

Veronica nearly dropped the phone as it all started to come together.

If Belinda were no longer in the picture, then Maité would assume total control of Veronica’s inheritance. Maité’s reluctance to raise Veronica’s allowance had nothing to do with spending limits, it would just be less money for Maité to gain once Belinda is taken out.

“Oh my god,” she gasped. What does a girl do in this situation? She had little time to think, as the elevator doors were heard opening in the living room: Maité was home. Panicked, she hurriedly pocketed the phone as evidence and returned the book to its shelf.

“Hello?” Maité’s voice called, wandering through the house. “Veronica, are you here? I saw your coat on the rack.”

Veronica rushed back to the couch and feigned a nap just in time before Maité entered the room.

“Oh, hi,” Veronica started, faking a yawn coming out of her supposed nap. “I was in the neighborhood and grew dreadfully tired and needed to lie down. I’m sorry for intruding.”

Maité smiled at her through the threshold. What was always a bitchy smile from a hated woman now appeared to her as an evil smile from a malicious criminal.

“What time is it?” Veronica asked, checking her Tory Burch watch as she rose from the couch. “Two-thirty? I’m so sorry, I’d love to stay longer but I must be meeting a dear friend for a late lunch. Kisses.”

She gave a quick peck on the cheek to the foul murderer as she hurried her way out of the apartment and into the elevator, pressing the door close button as many times as her freshly manicured fingers could muster while sending an urgent text to her mother: ”I think someone is trying to kill you or whatever. Stay safe. xo”

Hopefully that would resolve things for now…

Unfortunately for Veronica, Maité’s first action once the apartment was cleared was to check the drop cam in the office to see just what Veronica was up to.

And Veronica was in trouble ********>