SOPHIA'S POV
“Who prepared my breakfast?”
I froze at Mr. Graham's question, every inch of me tensing up as his gaze scanned the room.
The question seemed simple enough, but we all knew Damon Graham well enough to realize that behind his calm tone, there was always a hint of something.
My mind raced, wondering if I’d done something wrong, if maybe the food wasn’t as good as I thought.
‘I’m not bad at cooking. But, why does he always find faults in my meals?” I thought.
“Didn’t you all hear me?” he repeated, this time with a slight edge. “I asked who cooked my food.”
Silence filled the room, and I felt the maids' eyes turn to me. My hands shook as I entwined my fingers under the table, trying to summon the courage to speak.
“I… I did, sir,” I finally managed, shutting my eyes as i
