AYRA'S POV

"You must be Ayra," a heavily pregnant woman said, her voice gentle as she approached, her hand tenderly resting on her gravid belly.

"Yes, I was sent by Mr. Hawthorne," I affirmed immediately, my voice steady as I held tight to my credentials.

"Ah, Mr. Hawthorne did mention your impending visit," she acknowledged with a polite nod, her eyes briefly scanning me.

Of course, the disparity in our appearances was undeniable. Despite her heavy pregnancy, she maintained an air of sophistication in her elegant blue office gown and understated heels. Meanwhile, my gaze involuntarily drifted down to my own worn-out flat black shoes, a stark reminder of my...