𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝟕

Davis Maclean stood across the counter from Sadira Kingston, observing her closely as she processed his presence. He could see the shift in her demeanor, the way her eyes took him in, moving from his perfectly tailored Dior suit to the crisp alignment of his tie, and finally settling on the business card he had just handed her. The warm, inviting atmosphere of the bakery contrasted sharply with the professional sharpness he brought into the space, and he could tell she felt it too.

"Yes, I'm Sadira Kingston," she replied, her voice soft but tinged with uncertainty.

Davis nodded slightly, maintaining his composed expression. He was used to moments like this-moments where he held all the cards and the other party was just beginning to realize the stakes.

He allowed a brief, reassuring smile to play on his lips as he took in the scene around him. The polished marble counters, the neatly arranged rows of pink, white, gold, and light pink sweets, the scent of vanilla and sugar lingering in the air-it all painted a picture of warmth and comfort, a picture that was about to be disrupted.

"I'm Davis Maclean," he introduced himself, his voice smooth and steady. "I'm a lawyer."

He watched as her fingers delicately handled the black business card, the silver letters reflecting the light as she studied it with growing confusion. He didn't offer more information immediately, letting the silence stretch just long enough to unsettle her.

It was a calculated move-he needed her off-balance, needed her to feel the gravity of the situation without him needing to spell it out.

"What's all this about?" Sadira asked, her voice trembling slightly as she set the card down. Her gaze shifted to the stack of papers he'd placed on the counter, her eyes scanning the documents with a mix of curiosity and dread.

Davis resisted the urge to jump in too quickly. He needed to draw her in, to let her come to her own conclusions before he laid out the facts.

He took a small step forward, his presence subtly dominating the space as he watched her hesitate before picking up the papers. Her hands trembled slightly as she flipped through the pages, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Ms. Kingston," he began, his tone gentle but authoritative, "I'm here because of an incident that occurred outside your bakery recently-a drug exchange that went wrong."

He saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes, followed quickly by disbelief. She shook her head, clearly trying to process what he was saying. "I don't understand," she murmured, more to herself than to him, as if hoping the answer would somehow materialize on the pages in front of her.

Davis took another step closer, his voice remaining calm and reassuring, though he could see the tension building in her. "As the owner of the establishment where this incident occurred, you've been called to appear in court. The authorities believe your testimony is crucial to the case."

The confusion in her eyes deepened as she looked up at him, searching his face for some kind of reassurance. "But I didn't see anything," she protested, her voice rising with the stress of the situation. "Why do I have to go to court?"

Davis remained composed, his expression carefully neutral. "It's not just about what you saw," he explained patiently. "As the business owner, you're responsible for the premises.

The court needs to hear your account of the events and your role as the owner of the property where this took place. You'll also need to make an appeal regarding the potential impact this situation could have on your business."

He watched as the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in for her. The word "appeal" seemed to hit her hard, and he could see the fear and confusion in her eyes as she set the papers down on the counter.

For a moment, Davis almost felt a pang of sympathy for her, but he quickly pushed it aside. Sympathy wasn't what she needed right now-she needed someone who could guide her through this mess, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

"I just... I just run a bakery," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she stared down at the counter. "I don't understand why this is happening."

Davis took a deep breath, softening his tone just enough to convey empathy without losing his authoritative edge. "I understand this is overwhelming," he said. "But I'm here to help you navigate this process. The court proceedings can be complex, but with my legal expertise, I'll ensure you're well-represented and protected. I recommend you don't try to handle this on your own."

He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the way she struggled to reconcile the warmth and simplicity of her bakery with the cold, hard reality of the legal world he was introducing her to. She was strong, that much was clear, but this was new territory for her, and Davis knew she was out of her depth.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted, her voice shaky.

Davis nodded, taking another step back to give her space. "That's why I'm here," he said. "Take some time to look over the documents, and we can set up a meeting to go over everything in detail. But for now, just know that you're not alone in this."

Sadira's eyes lingered on him, still filled with uncertainty and fear, but there was also a glimmer of something else-perhaps hope, perhaps desperation. Either way, Davis knew he had her attention. He offered her one last reassuring smile before turning to leave, his mind already racing through the possible strategies he would employ in the days to come.

As he walked out of the bakery, the warmth of the air inside clung to him, a stark contrast to the cool, brisk air outside. Adjusting his tie, he knew that this case was going to be anything but straightforward. But that was fine-Davis Maclean thrived in complexity, and he had a feeling that this situation was going to provide him with exactly that.

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