Violet was innocence wrapped in sin. A bombshell in denial. Long violet hair down her back, doll-like black eyes, a flawless round face begging to be ruined.
Five-foot-four, curves engineered by a perverted god—ample tits and a wide back, but not so much it screamed cow.
Even dressed modestly, her body betrayed her, every curve whispering touch me.
Old Alexander never hated her. But watching his dad drag her in like a prize cow without so much as a "by the way, son, meet your new mommy" left a sour taste.
'Man, for a guy who looked smooth as silk, he was a virgin puppet. No wonder. Fucking clown.'
Alex shook his head, sat down at the table, and smirked.
"Hmph."
Across from Violet, another girl scoffed, snapping her head away like he was dog shit on the carpet.
Alex's eyes burned into her.
'Ohhh fiery. Cute. Doesn't matter. I'll have you begging like a junkie scratching at the door for her next fix.'
Andrea. Violet's daughter. Short violet hair chopped sharp, angular face that looked like it was sculpted to sneer.
A year older than Marine but her body had bloomed meaner, sharper, deadlier.
She hated Alexander as much as he hated her. Oil and water. Cats and dogs. They barely spoke, and when they did, it was all venom.
If Violet dressed in modesty like a nun on the run from horny priests, and Marine threw on whatever was comfortable like a sleepy cat, Andrea dressed like she was walking into a boardroom to bully everyone into signing their souls away. Her outfits screamed confidence and attention.
'Well yeah, she's a business woman in training. Of course she's gonna be a bitch factory pumping out attitude like oxygen.'
Alex snickered, broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in butter, then let it melt on his tongue with exaggerated satisfaction.
"Mmm… delicious."
"Huuuk!"
Violet nearly choked on air. Alexander never said those words. Hell, he never even sat at this table with them, always skulking away like a ghost that hated family.
To see him sitting there, casual, savoring bread like it was some Michelin-star dish, after what she'd already gone through seeing him earlier—it short-circuited her brain.
Her face went crimson, her shoulders stiff, but then… a tiny smile slipped out. Just a ghost of one, trembling on her lips.
She looked down at her plate, embarrassed, but the warmth lingered.
Because, of course, mommy Shepheard made those bread herself.
'I-is he finally going to be a good son. He called me mom earlier. He actually called me mom.'
Violet's head was spinning. Sure, the way he said it earlier had been under circumstances that made her thighs clench in shame just thinking about it, but still—he said the word.
The word she'd wished for since entering this cursed house.
Meanwhile, Andrea barely raised an eyebrow, sipping her coffee like she was above the circus.
Then Alex struck again.
"Can you pass me the honey, mommy."
"Thuuufff!"
Andrea lost all composure, spraying coffee like a broken fire hydrant. She slammed her cup down and glared at him with the fury of a woman who just witnessed a crime against reality.
'Did this freak just call her mommy? In front of me? What the fuck dimension am I sitting in right now?'
Violet, however, went red all the way down her neck. She looked like she was about to combust, hands trembling as she slid the honey jar across.
"S-sure… son."
Alex dipped another chunk of bread into the honey with exaggerated calm.
Violet watched him with wide, wet eyes, anticipation burning so obviously it was practically dripping onto the table. She wanted to know if he liked it. Needed to know.
Alex bit into the honey-soaked bread, closed his eyes, and let out the most obscene little moan, low and drawn out like he was auditioning for food porn.
"Mmm~ mommy, this honey's so sweet… almost as sweet as you."
"PFFFFFTTTT!"
Andrea's coffee went airborne again, this time shooting out of her nose. She doubled over, choking, fists pounding the table like she wanted the universe to explain itself immediately.
'No… nope… I didn't hear that. Why is this freak moaning like that?!'
Violet nearly dropped her fork, her whole face glowing like a cherry tomato. She clutched at her chest like she was seconds away from fainting, yet the corners of her lips betrayed a smile that screamed don't stop.
In her mind, he was complimenting her cooking.
And Alex wasn't done. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sighed dramatically, then spoke in a tone dripping with false regret.
"I am sorry, mommy… you had to see me fully and completely naked in my room."
"THHHHFFFUUUCK!"
This time it wasn't just Andrea. The newspaper in Daniel's hands trembled, then—PSSSHHHH!—a fountain of coffee sprayed out of his mouth all over the page.
He coughed violently, his eyes bulging as he looked between Alex and Violet like he'd just discovered he was living inside the world's filthiest soap opera.
Andrea and Daniel were both dripping in coffee, wide-eyed, stunned into silence.
"The hell do you mean naked!"
Andrea shot up from her chair, slamming both palms onto the table so hard the plates rattled. Her face twisted in disbelief, red with fury.
Her voice cracked across the dining room like a whip, and for once even Daniel put down his soggy newspaper, staring between them like someone just confessed to murder.
Violet panicked. She waved her hands desperately, her words tumbling out faster than her brain could filter them.
"I-It was an accident! I barged into his room without knocking and—and he just happened to be… completely naked… and I saw everything—"
She froze mid-sentence, realizing she had said everything.
Andrea's jaw hit the floor. Daniel inhaled coffee so fast he practically waterboarded himself.
Alex, meanwhile, sat there calmly buttering another piece of bread, his smirk widening with every syllable Violet confessed.
"See, Mommy knows how to tell the truth. No shame in it."
Violet wanted to sink under the table. Her blush reached her ears as she covered her mouth with trembling fingers, her eyes darting anywhere but at Alex.
Andrea's eye twitched so hard it looked like she might leap across the table and strangle him. Daniel had gone silent, just blinking, muttering to himself like his soul left his body.
And Alex bit into his bread and moaned again like this was the best meal of his life.
Breakfast was now a scandal.