74

The woman removed her silk gloves, which reached above her elbows, and washed her hands. Nothing could really prepare her for the moment when she would have to talk to Aaron, but she liked to think that she could put it off.

The grand hall was alive with the harmonious strains of the violin, the music cascading gracefully through the air like a gentle breeze.

Amidst the elegant ambiance, Elena remained ensconced in her thoughts, her nerves fluttering like delicate butterflies in her stomach.

She finally returned to the salon when the last melancholic note had faded into silence, her steps measured and deliberate.

As she settled into the plush seat beside Gordon, her father, his concerned gaze immediately caught her pallor.

"Elena, my dear, you seem a bit pale," Gordon observed, his voice laced with paternal concern.

"Just a touch of nerves," she replied with a forced smile, though the weight of her apprehension lay heavy upon her.

Gordon, ever perceptive, opted not to delve further,