"So sorry about that, everyone. My older daughter was in a bad mood and burned some scrap paper in her room to blow off steam. I'm really sorry. I'll take care of it right away."
The chat went quiet for a beat. Then the messages came flooding in.
"Burning paper? Mr. Chavez, you're way too soft on that girl!"
"Is your older daughter mentally ill or something? You adopt a little brother and she loses it like this?"
"You and your wife are saints for putting up with that. In my house, she'd have gotten a beating."
Terence replied to each message with apologies.
"It's our fault as parents. We haven't raised her right. Tomorrow I'll send everyone a gift card as an apology, and I'll treat Mrs. Chen to coffee."
Mom said nothing. She just wrinkled her nose.
The smell was getting worse.
A burnt, acrid stench laced with something else entirely was seeping through the cracks around the door and the gaps in the unsealed pipes, creeping into the living room.
Harrison burst out of his room, hand clamped over his nose. He kicked the bottle of cough syrup sitting outside the door and sent it flying.
Glass shattered. The dark liquid pooled across the floor.