The Game (Part 1]

The bell rang once. Madame returned to her chair, carefully smoothing a crease from her skirt as she sat, and turned her gaze toward the door.

The maid entered without hurry. She stood just short of where Madame was seated—tapping her foot on the rug as if impatient to be elsewhere.

“You’re not wearing the shoes I bought for you,” Madame said.

A pause.

“No, Madame.”

“I see.”

Her fingers brushed the wine glass beside her. “Perhaps I should dismiss you?” she murmured, more amused than stern. “You are impertinent, Angélique, and should know your place.”

Still, no reply. Just that posture—deliberate, defiant.

Madame rose. The dark silk beneath her blazer shifted as she moved, drawing tight across her frame before falling soft again.

“And what if I meant it? Told you to pack your bags and leave?”

Angélique’s voice, low: “Then you’d be lying, Madame”

The older woman smiled and stepped closer. “Correct.”