Her greatest trump card

Monique trembled as she crawled backwards.''Please let her go...Clinton will never forgive you if you do this!" Monique choked out, grasping at the last straw of reason.

A flicker of something akin to amusement flickered across Constance's face.

"Oh, honey," Constance drawled, her voice dripping with cruel amusement, "he won't mind a bit if he knows Sahara isn't his."

Monique's blood ran cold as Constance's words echoed through the smoke-filled warehouse.

Disbelief battled with a primal fear in her eyes.

Monique's breath hitched in her throat at Constance's venomous words. A cold dread seeped through her, replacing the initial disbelief.

"What... what did you do?" she rasped, her voice barely a whisper.

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the already smoke-filled vision.