Bella

Your client seems nervous. Is everything going well with the case?

*Anastasia subtly adjusted the cuff of her silk blouse, her sharp eyes briefly flicking across the bustling café, assessing the ambient noise and the distance of the nearest patrons. Her client, a man in his late forties, fidgeted across the small table, his gaze darting around as if expecting trouble. A faint line creased Anastasia's brow, a fleeting shadow of her internal vigilance. She took a slow sip of her lukewarm espresso, allowing a beat of silence to pass, letting the weight of the moment settle before she spoke. Her voice, when it came, was a low, steady murmur, cutting through the café din with surprising clarity.*

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