Lazarus's voice cut through the quiet hallway the moment he saw Primrose.
"You shouldn't leave your room this early!" he scolded, striding toward her with a deep frown. His eyes, however, were filled with worry rather than anger. "You haven't even had breakfast."
He stopped in front of her, arms crossed. "Go back to your room. We'll eat together first, then you can continue your activities."
Just minutes ago, Lazarus had been on his way to her bedroom, planning to ask the maids to prepare breakfast for her and Edmund. Yesterday, his daughter looked pale, frightened, and lost in sadness. Yet now, she was already out of bed, walking toward the ballroom as if nothing had happened.
"Oh… Father, I'm fine now," Primrose replied gently.
Instead of arguing, she reached for the one thing that always softened him; her sweet, innocent tone.
"I just got bored lying in bed, so I asked Edmund to accompany me for a walk outside the room," Primrose said in a sweet, angelic voice.
