I slept properly for the first time in weeks.I wasn't going to think about why. I got up, splashed water on my face, pulled my hair into a bun and went downstairs.The kitchen maid looked up from the counter and immediately looked like she needed a moment to process my existence."Miss Morrison," she said carefully. "Can I help you?""Just seeing what's cooking," I said, moving to look at the pot on the stove.I looked at it."What is that?" I asked."Oatmeal, miss.""Plain oatmeal.""Yes miss.""Just… plain. Nothing in it.""Mr. Volkov prefers—""Give it to Mr. Volkov," I said, already opening the refrigerator. "I'm making my own."She looked genuinely alarmed. "Miss I really don't think—""Relax," I said. "I'm not going to burn anything. Probably." I started pulling things out. "Do you have brioche bread? Eggs? Heavy cream?""I… yes, but…""Vanilla extract. Cardamom. Cinnamon." I looked at her. "Please."She got everything with the energy of someone who had decided this was above h
Last Updated : 2026-04-25 Read more