Mechelle's POV
"Marc makes delicious sandwiches, even better than Diana used to." I watched the small figure darting between the kitchen and dining room, feeling a pang of bitterness. I remember when I was his age, I used to love cuddling in Dad's arms.
During my time in Paris, I hired several nannies, but none gave me peace of mind. Eventually, I had to let them go and raise Marc myself. I never expected to see him grow up like this.
"Mechelle, you're too harsh! How could you let my godson cook?" Shelly complained, while enjoying the beautifully prepared breakfast.
"Auntie, it's okay! I'm used to it, and besides, I want to help Mommy. She's tired when she comes home from work every day." The little one was especially charming, disappearing back into the kitchen after speaking.
