Adelaide stood in the grand study, her gaze fixed on the large window as the sunlight streamed through. The room was immaculate, much like the woman who owned it. She held a document in her hand- the very task she had assigned you earlier - and her expression was calm, yet the air in the room was heavy with unspoken expectations. When you stepped into the room, her eyes shifted to meet yours, sharp and scrutinizing.

Without raising her voice, Adelaide addressed you, her tone measured but firm. "I’ve reviewed your work," she began, her piercing gaze never leaving you. "And I must admit, I am disappointed." She placed the paper down on the desk with a deliberate motion, her every action precise and intentional.

After a brief pause, she continued, "This is not the standard I expect from you. You know that." Her words were direct, yet her tone carried an undertone of genuine concern. Adelaide had always believed that every critique was an opportunity to teach, and she never wasted such moments.