Chapter 4 — Unmasking Vulnerabilities

Tessa

The Workshop Loft felt different tonight, its usual sharp edges softened by a quiet intimacy, as though the room itself anticipated the shift in tone. Tessa—no, Mallory—settled into her spot near the center of the semi-circle, her weathered notebook balanced on her knee, pen poised like a weapon. Around her, the attendees’ nervous chatter filled the air, weaving through the faint aroma of coffee and polished leather. Chairs scraped softly against the hardwood floor as people adjusted their positions. She let her eyes drift over the room, observing with her journalist’s precision and cataloging every detail.