Ivy Wolfe Janice Griffith //free\\ -

“Told you. Cursed,” Janice said.

Ivy extended her hand. Janice took it.

The museum’s security was a joke. The real obstacle was the other attendees: billionaires in masks, dripping with real diamonds and fake smiles. Ivy worked the room, charming a tech CEO out of his keycard. Janice disabled the west wing’s pressure sensors by spilling champagne “accidentally” on the control panel. ivy wolfe janice griffith

“Client forgot to mention the curse comes with friends,” Ivy muttered. “Told you

In the dark, breathing hard, Janice took the pendant from Ivy’s trembling hand. “Told you. Cursed

“I don’t like this one,” Janice whispered, adjusting her earring—which was actually a micro-recorder. Her gown was silver, her hair a cascade of dark waves. She looked like a forgotten silent film star.