"How dare you, you lowly maid?!"
The furious voice cut through the thick, steamy air, shattering the moment like glass struck by a hammer.
It was Mira. Dimitri's official wife.
She strode into his bathhouse, her fury tangible, radiating from her very being like a raging fire. The once-gracious woman, whom everyone believed to be as calm as a dove, now burned with unrestrained anger, her eyes glowing red like those of a dragon.
As she approached the large stone bathtub, Sorayah remained frozen, standing in the warm water, her mind still catching up to the situation. Meanwhile, Dimitri, lounging in the tub with his eyes shut, exuded an infuriating indifference, as if nothing unusual was happening.
Without warning, the sharp crack of a slap echoed through the bathhouse. The force of Mira's palm colliding with Sorayah's cheek sent a jolt of pain searing through her face.
