The Thorn family mansion was busier than it usually was, a sprawling monument of marble and glass that felt more like a corporate headquarters than a home on Christmas morning.
Inside the kitchen, about five teenagers had joined Cassandra, their presence adding a layer of frantic energy to the room. Cassandra moved between the industrial-sized ovens and the marble island, struggling to maintain a stoic face.
Her hands were steady, but her mind was a battlefield. The old Thorn Matriarch was a serious pain in her neck; Cassandra couldn't wait to get rid of her, but in this family, the matriarch's shadow was long and cold.
As for the patriarch, he was a calm, decent man, making Cassandra constantly doubt how he had ever survived a marriage to a woman like Theresa.
"Why did grandma show up this year? I thought she was supposed to be in Zurich until the New Year," Belle asked, her voice a hushed whisper as she pushed a tray of cupcakes across the table.
