Chapter 2
A seven-year-old boy came careening around the center island with a bag of baking soda in hand, trailing a fresh white storm across the polished granite counters.
Elena instinctively stepped forward, her elegant demeanor overriding her shock as she evaluated the logistical emergency like a corporate supply chain failure.
"Stop right there, young man, before you ruin the entire floor's structural traction," Elena commanded in a voice that was low, controlled, and intensely authoritative.
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The boy halted abruptly, staring up at her midnight blue silhouette with wide, defiant eyes that mirrored Julian’s impenetrable expression down to the last millimeter.
Clara crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a soft, dry laugh of utter disbelief at the bizarre psychological warfare disguised as a marriage test.
