Calla’s POV
The restaurant Cassandra picked for our meeting was just what I expected—upscale but not overly flashy, busy enough to feel safe but quiet enough for private talks. The tables were covered with white cloths, the lighting was soft, and the prices made me wince a little, considering my new law practice was on a tight budget.
I got there fifteen minutes early, a habit instilled in me by my former boss Patricia during my early career. She always said to take control of the situation before the other person arrives. Choose your seat wisely and never let them see you stressed or in a hurry.
Cassandra arrived right on time, which I admired despite myself. She was wearing a new designer suit—navy this time instead of charcoal—and greeted me with a friendly, professional smile as she
