The moment that familiar, pungent smell of fish reached my nose— the one I hated most— my skin instantly prickled with red welts.
I clutched my mouth and stepped back sharply, my voice cold. "I'm allergic to seafood. Take it away."
Suddenly, Henry's hand jerked— the steaming porridge spilled all over his thigh.
He let out a scream, then tumbled down the stairs.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Carter! I didn’t know… Miss Wells—it hurts, it hurts so bad…”
"Leo! Are you insane?" Irene shouted, her voice shrill with fury. "Henry didn’t know you were allergic—did you really have to push him down the stairs?"
"I didn’t!" I forced down the nausea, trying to defend myself.
"Still denying it? What, you think Henry dumped boiling porridge on himself for fun?"
Her eyes, once so calm and distant, now burned with disgust.
"You—look at you now. You're no different than a rabid dog."
She bent down, gently lifting Henry into her arms and helping him toward the door.
"This is my last warning: take my and Henry’s names off that transfer list— If you don’t, we’re definitely getting divorced!"
But the divorce papers were already signed. I had no interest in her threats.