The bar was dimly lit, the jazz low and slow, like the kind of music that filled silence rather than broke it.
Ethan sat alone at the far end, one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. The first sip burned — not enough to drown anything, but just enough to let him feel it. He wasn't sure why he was here. Maybe to forget. Maybe to feel something else. Or maybe he was just tired of pretending to be the strongest person in every room.
He downed the rest of the drink in one breath. And that's when she appeared.
Aveline. High heels. Bold eyes. Trouble dressed in confidence.
"Hello there, boss," she purred, throwing her bag lazily onto the table as she slid into the seat beside him like she belonged there. "I saw you on TV. Courtroom hero, tragic headlines. I've been surprisingly bored without you."
Ethan didn't look at her right away.
"What's your name again?" he asked, voice flat, not even trying to mask his lack of interest.
