Downstairs, the estate buzzed—not with activity, but with gossip. Again.
"See? I told you it was too good to be true," Adelle declared dramatically, standing at the entrance like a war-torn heroine from a corporate battlefield.
Her blazer was half-buttoned, her bun lopsided, and she had one shoe in her hand like it betrayed her in the middle of the PR trenches. "I leave for one crisis meeting, and I come back to another emotional disaster. Classic Summers-Ford energy."
Butler Eduardo, who had just returned from gently placing the bonsai on a silk-draped pedestal as if it were the estate's new emotionally symbolic pet, sighed like a man who had lived through four generations of romantic tension and lived to dust the silverware.
"You're right," he said with grave resignation. "So... the baby thing might also be cancelled."
Adelle blinked. "There was a baby thing?"
