Patricia bustled through the kitchen, barking orders at the maids, her voice laced with frantic concern. Her hands fluttered nervously, arranging and rearranging crystal goblets on the dining table, as if the perfect setting could mend the fractured that had occurred during breakfast in the morning.
The aroma of Michael's favourite spices wafted through the air, carefully chosen to evoke childhood memories and comfort. Yet, the kitchen hummed with an undercurrent of tension, the clinking of silverware sounding brittle and forced.
Michael, descending the stairs, met his father unexpectedly. A curt nod was his only greeting to Edward.
'Michael, is something wrong with you?' Edward pointed at Michael and scolded. 'The prince of Moon Corporation dating a poor, cheap woman? Do you want to tarnish our family's reputation? Is that your intention?'
Michael's expression turned ominously cold as he listened to his father's words. He remained silent for a moment before responding in a chilling tone, 'So, you believe my life should be reduced to a file? Are you suggesting that all my choices should be predetermined?'
'That's how it should be,' Edward insisted. 'We can compile a list of all the socialites here in Abuja. They must come from respected families and possess exceptional beauty.'
Michael's cold gaze bore into his father's eyes as he retorted, 'I am a grown man capable of making my own decisions. But if you insist on presenting me with a catalog of beautiful, flawless, and wealthy girls, perhaps you should enjoy them yourself. I'm sure Mother wouldn't mind.' With that, Michael turned and headed back upstairs instead of joining the family for dinner. He had clearly lost his appetite.