The evening air was thick with tension as Annabelle stood outside the small, private restaurant she had carefully chosen for this confrontation.

The dim glow of streetlights reflected off the wet cobblestone paths, remnants of an earlier drizzle making the air cool and damp.

She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders.

She was embarrassed to see that her fingers trembled a bit.

Not from the cold, but from the anticipation of what was about to unfold.

Inside, the room was designed for privacy, with warm wooden tones, low lighting, and a single round table at its center.

She had specifically requested this secluded spot.

There were no windows, no...