My son hit me last night and I stayed quiet. This morning, I laid out my lace tablecloth, baked a full Southern breakfast, and set the good china like it was Christmas. He came downstairs, saw the biscuits and grits, smirked, and said, “So you finally learned,” but his face changed the second he saw who was sitting at my table.
Chapter 1: The Scent of Butter and Betrayal The morning sun crested over the sprawling, manicured hills of the estate, casting a warm, golden light through the sheer curtains of Eleanor’s dining room. The house smelled incredibly inviting. The rich, dark aroma of French roast coffee mingled perfectly with the heavy, savory scent of thick-cut…
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