Then a movement came into view.
Evangeline reached out and picked up the bowl of chicken soup.
Clara reacted instantly, stopping her in a panic, but before she could say more than a couple of words, Evangeline was already putting on that familiar, arrogant expression.
“You’re just a servant, not the master.”
I stood upstairs, fingers on the railing, and felt a twitch form between my brows.
Clara was clearly startled, but she still tried to explain patiently. The more she explained, the sharper Evangeline’s tone grew, the more exaggerated her emotions became—until she finally burst into tears.
Her crying was so loud it echoed through the entire first floor.
Sure enough, the next second, Dad walked out of the living room, his face darker than usual.
Mom hurried over as well.
Both of
