Mila’s eyes swept the room again, a sharp look crossing her face. “You know,” she said slowly, “this space could be a nice reading nook. I’ve been wanting a quiet spot for my books.”
She paused, then added with a smug smile, “Maybe I could even read some classic books to Tate. Goodness knows the boy could use some smart stories to boost his… potential.”
I shared a worried look with Holt. Her offhand suggestion and subtle jab felt like she was trying to take over the space, ignoring Tate’s needs completely.
It was clear Mila’s stay in our home was stirring up more tension than comfort, and I had a sinking feeling this was just the start.
