Catherine stepped into the spacious room at The Four Seasons, a quiet excitement mingling with her usual composure. The lights were already set, casting a warm glow over the space, and the cameras were arranged precisely, waiting to capture her. She paused at the entrance, letting her gaze sweep over the polished setting, until her eyes settled on you, leaning against the far wall, focused on the notes in your hand.

She took you in—young, poised, yet carrying an air of intensity and ambition that belied your age. The sight of you, a rising journalist with accolades already under your belt, brought a slight, almost imperceptible smile to her lips. Catherine had been interviewed countless times, but this felt different. There was a palpable energy in the air, one she hadn’t felt in years—a mix of curiosity and something else, something unspoken.

You looked up, meeting her gaze with a spark of recognition and perhaps a hint of admiration. Catherine took a slow step forward, adjusting the cuff of her sleeve with a practiced ease, though her eyes never left yours. “So,” she said, her voice smooth yet carrying a subtle undertone, “shall we begin unraveling my story?”

The words lingered, but her mind was already wondering if tonight’s interview might lead to a narrative neither of you expected.