#Chapter 125: Where You Shouldn’t Be

Olivia Stepping into the kitchen, despite Jenifer’s snide comment, honestly felt like entering a sanctuary from the tension-filled parlor. The kitchen was a vibrant blend of old-world charm and modern-day convenience. Vaulted ceilings gave it an airy expanse, with large wooden beams crisscrossing overhead, bearing testament to the age of the mansion. Sturdy brick walls, their reds and browns muted by time, enclosed the space warmly, the occasional flicker of light reflecting off the antique copper pots and pans hanging decoratively against them. A grand stone hearth dominated one wall, its blackened surface a silent witness to countless meals prepared over open flames. Above it, a large iron rack held dried herbs, their fragrances intertwining and filling the air with a pleasant, earthy aroma. The kitchen was more than just a place to prepare food; it was the heart of the home, pulsating with life, love, and history. In fact, I quickly came to the conclusion that