The house that Vix gifted Aria on her wedding day had grown into a lively, chaotic haven—equal parts love, laughter, and mayhem. Nestled in the heart of Windmere, it had become the central hub for the extended family, now filled with the pitter-patter of young feet and the sound of constant chatter.

One bright morning, the family gathered in the kitchen, a room that had somehow become the battlefield for breakfast negotiations.

Kaelina sat at the corner table, her calm blue eyes focused on a tome that seemed much too large for a nine-year-old. Her posture was straight, her composure serene. “Uncle Vix, I believe your argument with Aunt Aria about whose cooking is better lacks merit,” she said without even looking up.

Vix, who was juggling a tray of burnt toast and an overenthusiastic twin son, Elaion, snorted. “Excuse me? I cook with flair, little miss genius. Aria cooks with chaos.”

Aria spun around from the stove, waving a wooden spoon like a battle cry. “Chaos is where the flavor lives! Kaelina, stop siding with Vix. You’re supposed to be my daughter.”

Kaelina raised an eyebrow. “You burned the pancakes...