The steward knelt. "Check her courtyard, sir. Her kitchen's preparing breakfast now."
Adrian stormed to Sylvia's quarters. Dawn barely broke, and she was still asleep, but the kitchen bustled. Servants bowed. "Morning, sir."
"What are you making?" he asked.
"Sylvia's breakfast," a servant replied. "She says it's the most important meal, so we start hours early."
The counters were laden with rare delicacies, far exceeding the ten-cent rule. Adrian checked her rooms—fine clothes, lavish goods. The steward added, "If Isabella hadn't used her dowry to support us, the staff would've rebelled. Sylvia buys rotten vegetables, spoiled meat, and cuts wages."
Adrian's throat tightened. "I'll get to the bottom of this."
He toured the manor. Servants slurped watery gruel, whispering Isabella's na
