With quick movements, he snatches my fork, and as soon as he tastes my omelet, his face twists with fury.

“Nana! Nana!” he yells, standing up, his eyes darting between the redheads and me.

“What’s wrong, my boy?” the older woman asks as she appears in the dining room.

“I want you to call every single person in the kitchen staff.”

“Is something wrong with breakfast?”

“Just do what I said,” he snaps.

The woman turns around and disappears as fast as her age allows.

“You two ...