[Wait, the one in the mask looks familiar.]
Sandro was the first to walk into the living room, a scholarly aura surrounding him, his presence as refined as polished jade.
Then came Dallas, wearing a black mask that barely revealed his sharp, eagle-like eyes. His walk was casual, a hand shoved deep in his pocket, oozing a laid-back yet rebellious charm.
Mom gave them a quick glance.
"Did you order the cake? Emma loves Elite Reverie’s cakes."
Dallas replied with a careless tone, "It’s from Elite Reverie. They’ll deliver it later."
[That’s a laugh. Do you even know how expensive Elite Reverie is? Even the wealthiest have to pick up their orders themselves!]
[Still playing the game at home, huh?]
[Probably one of those five-dollar floral basket cakes. That’s more their speed.]
Just as the laughter died down, the phone rang.
Dallas answered it, his expression shifting ever so slightly.
"There’s been a small hiccup with the cake delivery. Of all days to have an issue, it had to be on our little birthday star’s special day! I’ll go take care of it."
Sandro’s hand shot out, resting on his younger brother’s shoulder.
"Your temper is only going to make things worse. Let me handle it."