"Well, I'm back—and I had a midnight snack," Elora said, glancing at her mother's expression. She could tell right away-her mother had seen her and Tatum hugging.

After a brief silence, she decided to speak first.

"Mom."

"Elora."

They spoke at the same time, then fell silent again.

"You go first, Mom." Elora stepped closer. "You're clearly not sleepy yet. Come to my room- we can have a mother-daughter chat."

That way, they wouldn't disturb her father and brother.

Mrs. Ormond followed her daughter into the bedroom.

She rarely entered Elora's space. Ever since Elora started junior high, she had made it a point not to go into her daughter's room without permission.

As her children grew, they needed their own privacy, and she respected that.

Do you want some water?" Elora asked, noticing her mother's hesitation. She motioned for

saying, "Elora, you just got back from a business trip. Why

to

his cooking was exceptional-so exceptional that Elora hadn't gotten

daughter's private chef arrangement would only last for a short period, thinking that Tatum was simply doing his

also noticed how attentive Tatum was to Elora, but she hadn't

for Elora, her gentleness toward Tatum hadn't concerned her either. After all, Tatum wasn't just any chef-he was

only natural that her attitude toward Tatum had softened

hadn't expected sparks to fly between

arranging introductions to outstanding young men in the

of man her daughter

say she wasn't focused on relationships. Her priority was

circumstances, and the fact that Elora was still

Mrs. Ormond hadn't

however, particular about her future

Elora married the wrong man— someone ambitious

she could also be

inherit the business, the risk

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