Ryan set his briefcase down and immediately caught sight of the maids’ uneasy faces. One of them was picking up a pair of heels and a coat from the floor — both clearly victims of his daughter’s temper.
He sighed. “What now?”
The staff exchanged helpless looks. No one dared to answer.
Ryan handed off his jacket and went straight for Lydia’s door. He barely knocked once before her voice snapped from the other side:
“DON’T come in!”
He turned the handle anyway. “Even me?”
The moment she saw his serious face in the doorway, Lydia froze. Her anger shrank back; she puffed her cheeks, tossed whatever was in her hands aside, and marched to the bed, plopping down with a huff.
Ryan shut the door behind him. “You ditched the gala tonight—said you had something important. Now you come home loo
