The chair creaked softly beneath Eva’s weight as she settled into it, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet room. She crossed her legs with deliberate calm, smoothing the fabric of her dark skirt over her knees. The silk blouse she wore—ivory, long-sleeved, modest—felt suddenly too light against the chill that had crept into the air.
The man across from her watched every movement.
Up close, Eva noticed the faint scar near his left temple, half-hidden by gray hair. His eyes were sharp but tired, the kind that had seen too many outcomes to believe in surprise anymore. He folded his hands together on the desk, fingers interlacing slowly, as if buying himself time.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
Eva’s gaze did not waver. Her eyes—dark, steady, ringed with exhaustion she no longer both
