What no one imagined was that the man in the overcoat hadn't pulled out a firearm, but a thick envelope, folded angrily, as if it contained something worse than any visible threat.
Adrienne didn't back down.
She stood motionless before them, with such an eerie calm that even from the window, Maria felt as if the air in that garden had changed hands.
The taller man waved the envelope in front of his face, saying something with a twisted mouth, like someone who believes he has power because he holds a secret.
Adrienne didn't respond immediately.
She looked at the envelope first.
Then she looked at the second man, the younger one, who avoided looking up, as if he already regretted being there.
And then she spoke.
She didn't raise her voice.
She didn't make a sudden gesture.
He uttered only a few words, terse, measured, impossible to hear from the house, but enough to drain the color from their faces.
The three men stood still.
The man with the envelope swallowed.
The young man took a step back.
The third, the one who until that moment had seemed the most defiant, barely turned his head.
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