Seraphina's Point Of View
I stood at the doorway, clutching the edge of my white bathrobe like it was a lifeline, my wet hair dripping tiny beads of water down my neck. My heart hammered as I stared at the lead woman with the digital tablet, my mind spinning through a dozen possible explanations for this unexpected invasion.
"Sent by whom, exactly?" The question came out sharper than I intended. "Because I didn't book any glam squad today, and my schedule is completely packed."
The woman seemed utterly unbothered by my tone. She maintained that seamless, high-end professional smile and reached into her blazer pocket with practiced grace. She pulled out a small, heavy black card with silver matte edges and extended it toward me. "The benefactor requested we deliver this directly, ma'am."
