A faint, unpleasant odor wafted through the air, mixed with the crumpled tissue Florence had thrown earlier. Shirley felt like she was suffocating, her stomach churning as she fought the urge to vomit.
A cold voice drifted from above, carrying a mocking tone. "Trash belongs in the trash can."
An indescribable chill crawled up Shirley's spine, making her shiver involuntarily.
The matter grew increasingly chaotic. Lancelot wanted to scold Florence, but the words stuck in his throat as his gaze lingered on her.
Once full of vigor and arrogance, Florence wore a somber expression. Her eyes, usually bright, were dull, like a bottomless pool, devoid of any light or warmth.
Postpartum depression had truly changed her, turning the once-innocent heiress into a completely different person.
A st
