The Hunt

The morning sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Nada's sleek downtown office as Bianca strides in, still riding high from last night's opera. She finds her publicist seated behind an imposing glass desk, wearing a crisp white blazer over a black silk shell, her hair pulled back in a severe bun that emphasizes her narrowed eyes.

"You have some serious explaining to do, Bianca. What do you think you're doing?" Nada's perfectly manicured fingers drum against her desk, her gold bangles clinking softly. Her navy pencil skirt and pointed Louboutins complete the image of polished professionalism.

Bianca smooths down her own outfit – a tailored black midi dress with a cinched belt and ankle boots, her wavy-dark hair falling in gentle layers around her shoulders. "Becoming a productive member of society again?"

"You've been productive! You've been booked solid for weeks." Nada's eyes widen in disbelief.