Evelyn walked in with the elegance only she could carry, her presence instantly shifting the air in the living room.
She lowered herself into the seat across from Anastasia with graceful poise, her chin raised slightly in the way powerful women carried themselves.
Anastasia tried to sit upright, her fingers nervously clutching the fabric of her dress. Her voice was soft, almost unsure. "I'm doing okay, ma'am."
Evelyn's eyes narrowed, piercing through Anastasia's shaky words. "No, you are not okay," she said plainly. "Are you not tired of being here?"
Anastasia's eyes widened. The question came like a slap to her chest. It knocked her off guard.
"I... I don't understand what you mean, ma'am," she stammered, finally meeting Evelyn's cold gaze.
"I know you're enduring pain in silence," Evelyn said with brutal honesty. "You wish you were free. Don't you want freedom, Anastasia?"
