KASMINE.
"Excuse me, ma'am," I called out, stepping back up to the desk.
She exhaled, rolling her eyes like I was the biggest inconvenience of her day. "Yes, Kasmine," she drawled, her voice laced with exhaustion. "What now?"
I dropped the file on the desk between us. "These records aren't… sufficient." I tapped the thin folder with my fingertips, keeping my voice steady even as irritation licked at my nerves. "Some vital information seems to be missing. Is there a mix-up somewhere?"
She didn't even pretend to care. Her eyes flicked to the file, then back to me, her expression blank with careful disinterest.
"This is all there is on Kester Hamilton's records," she said flatly. "I'm sorry."
The apology was false, lacking any real sincerity. It only fueled the slow burn of frustration
