The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over the sprawling estate of the Qin mansion, yet inside, the house felt anything but warm. The halls were unusually quiet, the air thick with an unspoken tension that had settled over the household like an unwelcome guest.
Stacy had been home for a few days now, but the space between her and Mr. Qin felt wider than ever. The silence between them was no longer awkward; it had grown into something sharper, more palpable, like an invisible wall they both refused to cross.
Mrs. Chen, the ever-diligent housekeeper, moved about the kitchen with a practiced efficiency, her sharp eyes glancing toward the dining room now and then. The sight of Mr. Qin sitting at the head of the table, shoulders stiff and gaze distant, filled her with unease.
