ELARA
"You're actually trying to convince me to sell my dress to that witch?" Anya drained her espresso in one violent gulp, slamming the tiny cup back onto the saucer with enough force that the barista looked up from his pour-over. "More unbelievable—I'm listening to your reasoning. I need whiskey. Why the hell are we drinking coffee?"
She flagged down the barista. "Do you serve anything harder than caffeine?"
"We have cold brew with a shot of—"
"Never mind." Anya waved him away with her Black Card—yes, she had her own, courtesy of the trust fund she pretended didn't exist. "Elara, I could curse that woman for two days straight. Forty-eight hours. I have material prepared. Want to hear my opening argument? ."
"But seriously, Elara. That woman just spent—" She pulled out her phone, ch
