Instigator Brooklyn

"Mrs. Meyers, please! Just a moment of your time, that's all I'm asking for."

Brooklyn Baker stood outside a modest, neatly kept apartment, her knuckles rapping firmly against the wooden door.

It was the fourth time she had knocked and yet there was no answer. Heaving a breath, she adjusted her blazer and checked the time.

Still no response. She knocked again, a little harder this time.

Finally, the door creaked open.

A woman stood there, barely peeking out. Sandy Meyers. She looked fairly young for her age of thirty-three. Shoulder-length auburn hair, deep brown eyes.

She appeared exhausted. Not physically, but there was a weariness in her expression that Brooklyn instantly recognized— someone who had seen too much and was tired of pretending otherwise.

Nevertheless, Brooklyn also couldn't deny that she was a stunning woman. Even with her hair all messy she looked beautiful.