Anderson
I arrived early, settling into the booth in the far corner. The dim lighting played to my advantage, covering my face of unease. Clara wasn’t the type to be rattled easily, but tonight, I intended to test her.
When she walked in, she was the picture of composure, her every step steady, every glance calculated. She saw me immediately, her expression unreadable, and approached.
“Anderson,” she said as she slid into the seat across from me. Her tone was clipped, her gaze sharp.
“Clara,” I said, leaning back, letting a smirk play on my lips. “You’ve kept yourself busy.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“If this is a reunion, you can save it. What do you want?”
I chuckled softly, picking up my glass of whiskey.
“Always straight to the point. But before we get into that, tell me...
