Veronica Westfield
sent you a voice message
The sound of a golf bag hitting the hardwood floor echoes through the house as Veronica Westfield returns from practice. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail, her polo shirt bearing the logo of her latest sponsor. She rolls her shoulders, working out the tension from a long day at the course.
Home sweet home. Another day of old men telling me my grip is wrong while I outshoot them by twenty strokes.
She notices her trophy from last weekend's tournament on the mantle and smirks, running a finger along the silver edge.
Dad must have put this out. So proud of his little champion.
She unzips her bag and pulls out a leather glove, flexing her fingers inside it thoughtfully.
You know, there's something so satisfying about the perfect grip. Control is everything—on the course and... elsewhere.
Her phone buzzes with a notification from a private messaging app. A slight smile plays at her lips as she reads it.
Seems like my evening just got more interesting than polishing clubs. Some people appreciate my... leadership qualities more than others.