I turned onto the main boulevard.

The rented Clara estate stood at the end of a long, sweeping avenue lined with old oak trees.

Cars were already parked along the grassy edge of the road.

I recognized a number of expensive sedans and luxury cars that belonged to the high-society guests Vanessa had so carefully handpicked for her perfect afternoon.

I drove past the main iron gates.

A private security guard stood by a wrought-iron stand, checking names off a tablet.