[Sera] I freeze behind the counter, my hand hovering over the espresso machine like it's suddenly forgotten how to function. But I force my voice to stay flat, professional. "I'm sorry, miss. We don't provide private conversation services." Victoria's smile doesn't falter. If anything, it deepens, like she's indulging a child throwing a tantrum. "Oh, sweetheart," she says, voice like warm silk, "there's really no need to be so defensive. I'm sure you're very good at what you do... here." A tiny tilt of her head. "But rules," she adds gently, almost sharing a secret, "are for other people, aren't they?" She turns slightly, giving a subtle nod to the woman behind her—her secretary, I assume, all crisp suit and clipboard efficiency. The secretary glides over to the customers, murmurs something low, hands out business cards and what looks like crisp bills. It's smooth, like a well-oiled machine. Within minutes, the shop empties. Laptops snap shut, chairs scrape back, and one gu
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