'....Right.'
Ayana let out a quiet sigh. Her left forefinger lightly tapped on the office desk, and her right fingers almost squeezed the thin papers.
"Of course she would." She muttered, her eyes narrowing slightly with a sharp glint. "She never misses a chance to get under my skin."
'Tsk! What an absolute nuisance.' Ayana mentally clicked her tongue at the unwelcomed persistence.
Over the years, she had crafted an image of herself as someone who only mingled with others when it was business related—a reputation she maintained meticulously after Arabella's 17th birthday banquet. And while invitations to banquets and gatherings had steadily declined over time, a few still trickled in, mostly from her relatives who refused to take the hint.
