Madelyn
I don’t know what came over me that evening. Maybe guilt, maybe boredom, maybe just the silence that had started to crawl under my skin since our argument. The house was too quiet, filled with people who pretended not to notice the tension between us. The maids moved carefully around me, eyes lowered, probably wondering why I, of all people, was in the kitchen.
“Mrs. Blackwell, you don’t have to—” one of them started, but I waved her off.
“I’m not going to burn the house down,” I said, even though I wasn’t entirely sure about that.
Dominic was upstairs, in his office probably, pretending to work but I knew him enough now to guess he was still pissed about yesterday. I wanted to break that damn silence, even if it meant doing something stupid—like making dinner myself.
I could
