30: Silas hates onions now.

The staff member, who had been quietly attempting to clean the battlefield Silas had turned the kitchen into, froze mid-wipe. One glance at the two people in the middle of the room—standing far too close, eyes locked in a battle fiercer than any culinary disaster—was enough to activate her survival instincts.

Without a word, she backed away like a trained soldier evading crossfire.

Once she stepped out, she made a beeline to the waiting staff huddled in the living room. "No one goes in there," she whispered dramatically. "Sir and ma'am are… having a moment."

"We know already" they said and wave of knowing smirks, suppressed giggles, and exchanged glances rippled through the staff before they all scattered quietly, giving the couple their much-needed privacy—or at least, space to argue without an audience.

Back inside the kitchen, Avery's eyes glinted with challenge as she took a sharp breath, finally breaking the heated stare.