The restaurant was quiet. Too quiet.
Golden light from the crystal chandeliers spilled over polished tables.
Casting soft shadows that flickered gently across the marble floors. The silverware gleamed.
The wine glasses sparkled. Everything looked perfect, too perfect. Like a painting waiting to be disturbed.
The only sound was the faint clink of forks against porcelain.
Anastasia D'Argent sat across from her younger sister at the center table.
A half-full glass of red wine in hand. She twirled it lazily, watching the liquid swirl.
The restaurant was empty. She had rented the entire place for the night. No guards. No attendants. Just the two of them.
"It's been a long time since we ate together," she said casually. Slicing into her steak.
The knife cut through the meat like butter. The scent of herbs and seared flesh rose in the air.
Across from her. Eleanora moved in silence. She didn't look up from her plate.
"It has," she replied quietly. Her voice calm but distant.
