Chapter 181Cynthia’s POVThe Laurent kitchen was louder than I remembered.Not noisy in a chaotic way, but full. Full of warmth and life, overlapping voices, the soft clatter of baking trays against counters, the low hum of the oven working overtime. The air smelled like butter and sugar, vanilla and something faintly citrusy. It was the kind of atmosphere that wrapped around you and made you forget, just for a moment, that the world outside was unraveling at the seams.Amber sat on one of the island stools, his small hands dusted with flour as Helen patiently guided him, showing him how to roll the dough into neat little balls. He took the task very seriously, brow furrowed in concentration, as if the fate of the pastries depended entirely on him. Lily stood beside him, tongue sticking out, copying his movements with exaggerated care. Every so often she glanced at him, measuring her own progress against his.Julian hovered nearby, pretending to be a strict French pastry chef, his ac
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