I stared at my phone screen, biting my lip as the cheerful cooking instructor on the video effortlessly flipped an omelet onto a plate.
Looks easy enough, I told myself. But then again, last time I’d tried to make one, Adrian had laughed in my face.
This time, I was determined.
With all the maids gone—thanks to Adrian’s cruel idea of a lesson—I had no choice but to figure things out myself. He thought I’d give up, beg him to bring them back. But I wouldn’t. If he wanted to see me struggle, I’d prove him wrong.
Taking a deep breath, I cracked an egg into a bowl, my hands trembling slightly. The first one shattered too hard, and bits of shell floated in the yolk. I groaned, fishing them out with a spoon.
Focus, Elena.
I followed the video’s instructions, whisking the eggs with salt and
