Stephanie’s POV

I hated the kitchen. The heat, the smell of oil, the sound of spoons clattering—it made my skin crawl. I was not made for this. But here I was, pretending to play the role of the perfect homemaker, because that’s what Mark liked to see.

He thought it made me “humble.”

How laughable.

The maids hovered close by, their eyes down, too scared to move wrong. “Did you wash that pan properly?” I snapped at one of them, not even glancing her way.

“Yes, ...