Finally, Jasmine turned away from the window, her dark eyes settling on Brenda.
There was something there—something quiet. Knowing.
A wisdom that made Brenda's stomach tighten.
Jasmine's lips curved into a faint smile, but it was laced with something darker.
"Brenda,"Jasmine murmured, "luck is an illusion."
She traced her fingers along the armrest of her chair, movements slow, deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully.
"It is the decisions we make that determine whether fortune favors us—or turns against us."
Brenda blinked.
"Are you saying you chose this life?"
Jasmine's gaze drifted, lost in thought.
"Some choices are made for us."
She looked Brenda in the eye.
"Others, we make ourselves."*
A chill ran down Brenda's spine.
