The rain beat down relentlessly on the pavement, the sun long gone beyond the horizon. If one looked closely, they might notice a woman hurrying through the downpour, dressed in trousers and a jacket that hung over her dress, shielding her from the cold and wet.
Her umbrella was her only companion, offering meager protection as she dashed into the restaurant where she had parked her car.
That woman was Amelia, and this was the beginning of it all.
She stepped into the warmth of the restaurant, quickly folding her umbrella and shaking off the excess water. As she made her way inside, she fumbled with her phone, pressing a few keys.
"Mr. Taylor, where are you? I'm already in the restaurant, but I'm afraid I can't…" she began, her tone sharper than intended—perhaps a consequence of the miserable weather.
Amelia never liked rainy days; they were bad for business. What good was it to arrive drenched before getting anywhere you needed to be?
