Margot had raised him alone after his father’s passing, working exhausting shifts as a hospital receptionist while attending night classes to improve her qualifications, ensuring that Peter received opportunities she herself had never possessed.
Seeking to surprise them both, Peter entered quietly through the side entrance. Instead of laughter or welcoming voices, however, harsh words sliced abruptly through the silence, freezing him instantly beside a towering column overlooking the open culinary space.
“I have told you repeatedly not to cook that heavy food when guests are visiting,” Audrey Lawson declared sharply, her tone dripping with irritation barely restrained by courtesy. “The entire house smells like an outdated cafeteria, which is absolutely unacceptable within this neighborhood.”
Peter’s breath caught painfully inside his chest.
“I am sorry, Audrey, I was only preparing a small stew for myself,” Margot replied softly, her voice trembling beneath visible distress. “I planned to clean everything immediately afterward, leaving no inconvenience behind.”