(Author's POV)
Aurora refused to go herself.
So Martha went instead.
She appeared at the doorway of the conference room on the fourteenth floor of Rathbone Holdings, clutching her handbag with both hands, her face arranged into something between apology and supplication. Sienna looked up from the table and felt a flicker of distaste move through her before she could stop it.
This woman. This housekeeper.
She remembered Martha from the Rathbone household - a plain, worn-out woman who had spent years caring for other people's children, including Sienna herself until she was ten. Back then, Sienna had tolerated her presence the way one tolerates furniture. The warmth she had performed toward Martha in recent weeks had been exactly that - a performance, calculated to unsettle Aurora, to r
