Instead, she knelt down, meeting them at eye level and gently asked, “What do you want more than anything else?”
The boys blinked, confused.
Noah, who loved to laugh but rarely smiled anymore, added, “Fun.”
Oliver, the baby of the trio, grinned. “A robot dog.”
Grace smiled softly. “Alright. Here’s the deal. You give me one week—just one—of no yelling, no tantrums, no chaos. And if you hold up your end… I’ll get you that robot dog.”
No one had ever spoken to them like that. Not their father. Not their tutors. Not the revolving door of luxury childcare staff who came and went like wind through the halls.
The boys looked at each other. A week without chaos? Could they do it?
They nodded.
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