Ayra’s POV
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I stilled the moment the knock came at the door, the cold towel still pressed against my aching forehead.
I didn’t feel like replying. Probably just one of the maids again, calling my attention to food like they’d done every other day.
“Miss Ayra, your food is ready. It’s served in the dining room,” the voice called.
Dining room?
They didn’t bring it to the doorstep this time.
I sighed. “I’m not hungry,” I said aloud, hoping that would be the end of it.
But then— A sharp, frustrated voice snapped through the silence.
“You’re the one acting irresponsible. We’re the ones paying for it!”
I froze.
What?
What did that even mean?
What’s been happening outside this room?
Confused, I walked to the door and opened it.
The maid’s eyes widened when she saw me. She quick
