Niamh kissed Jove’s forehead. “I know, sweetie. From now on, I’ll buy myself good food.”
“Alright, I’m going to make dinner now.”
“Can we help?” Phaedra offered.
“No, you four go and study,” Niamh said.
“Okay, Mommy, I’m going to do some mental math problems.”
“I’m going to draw.”
“I’m going to practice my dancing.”
“I’m going to play the keyboard.”
With that, the quadruplets scattered.
Niamh let out a sigh of relief and turned to Lyric with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Lyric. These four can be a handful.”
“They’re wonderful,” Lyric said, her voice full of genuine admiration. “You’re so lucky, Niamh.”
“Lyric, why don’t you stay for dinner?” Niamh offered. “You’d have to cook for yourself at home anyway. It’s no trouble to set another place.”
“Are you sure?” Lyric’s eyes lit up.
“Of course.”
“Then let me help you,” Lyric said, placing her dog on the floor.
Niamh was about to refuse. It felt wrong to have a wealthy woman like Lyric help in the kitchen. But seeing her eagerness, she relented.
As soon as Niamh and Lyric were in the kitchen, Keir put down his crayons and went to find Jove.
“Jove, I think someone at work bullied Mommy today,” he whispered, his face etched with worry.
“Mommy, can’t you trust your own son for once?” Keir huffed.
Lyric, who was peeling garlic, chuckled. She adored these children. She would happily give up her own meals just to take care of them.
With a sigh, Niamh handed over her phone.
Keir grabbed it and scurried away. He quickly scrolled through her contacts—the same few people as always—before checking her WhatsApp list.
“Jove, Jove, look! There’s a new person in Mommy’s contacts,” he said excitedly, holding the phone up for his brother to see. “It says CEO, Mr. something… I don’t know that last name.”
Jove leaned in. “Mr. Bragg.”
“Mommy’s a janitor. How would she know a ‘CEO’ anyone?” Keir wondered aloud.
Jove shrugged, just as puzzled.
“Jove, look at his profile picture! He looks kind of like us, don’t you think?” Keir suddenly exclaimed.

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