“That’s more chaotic than I imagined.”

I thought being a Count meant having a fancy title and a pile of gold, but I must have been dreaming.

“I don’t wanna eat this!”

“Aida, there are people outside who would be thrilled to have even a crumb of that. Stop your whining!”

My little sister Aida flung the bread away and started crying, while our father, Count Bradley Somerset, gave her a serious talking-to.

I took a look at the food in front of me, realizing that a noble family’s dining experience could actually be just as chaotic as any regular family’s.

On the table was a watery soup that looked like something from a nightmare and bread that could probably double as a paperweight.

Honestly, even a kid would turn their nose up at this.

Determined to give it a shot, I went to dip my bread into the soup, but just as I tore it apart—

Crack!

Was that the sound of wood breaking?

   

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