Isabelle’s heart swelled with relief and hope as the tall man stepped forward, his presence like a lighthouse in her stormy sea of distress. The room’s atmosphere shifted, tension dissipating like mist under the sun.
“Yes, I am,” the man confirmed, his voice steady and firm. He was David Laurent, Isabelle’s husband, a reputable attorney known for his unwavering commitment to justice. His eyes, usually warm and kind, were now sharp and determined as he assessed the situation.
Brenda’s demeanor faltered slightly, uncertainty creeping into her expression. “I was just following protocol, sir,” she stammered, though her voice lacked the earlier bravado.
