Dramatic Clarissa

BENTLEY'S POV

The lobby buzzed with the low hum of tension and concern that always seems to hover like a cloud in places like this. I straightened my posture, trying to blend the aura of confidence with a dash of concern, appropriate for a hospital visit but not overly dramatic.

Approaching the reception desk, I noticed the nurse, her eyes flicking up to meet mine, a spark of recognition lighting them up. It's funny how being the daughter of someone 'elite' can sometimes feel like you're wearing a neon sign on your forehead.

"Hi, I'm here to see Max," I said, aiming for casual but probably hitting somewhere closer to awkwardly formal.

The nurse's attitude softened, perhaps picking up on my barely concealed nerves beneath the facade of calm. "Of course," she replied, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she looked up the room number. There was no hesitation, no request for ID or a barrage of questions about my relationship to the patient. The perks of a recognizable last name, I