“You’re overthinking this,” Thomas said flatly. “They’re both grown-ups. Let them sort out their own love lives. From now on, their business is their own.”
“Honestly, they’re all a handful. Daughters are so much easier,” Margaret muttered with a sigh, the bitterness in her tone hard to miss. “If that baby had made it, she’d be twenty by now. If it weren’t for your brother…”
“Enough,” Thomas cut in sharply, shutting it down without room for debate. “We’re not talking about that again.”
Just then, a housekeeper tapped at the door to deliver a message—the eldest son wanted the family to gather for a portrait.
Elsie glanced at the cursive calligraphy hanging in the living room. It read: “Devoted father, united brothers, loving couple—a prosperous home.”
The strokes were strong
