I was his allergen she was his cure what if this allergen turns lethal? novel Chapter 20

Chapter 12

Blissfully unaware, Connor looked up at Eleanor. “Aunt Eleanor, what’s for dinner?”

Eleanor shoved bags of chips and chocolate bars towards them. “These.”

Connor wrinkled his nose. “But we have this every day. Can’t you make shrimp balls? Even Mommy could do that, and she’s dumb.”

Chloe nodded hesitantly.

Even she was tired of endless snacks.

She missed Mommy’s cooking.

Eleanor’s voice was sweet syrup, her smile a cold mask. “Your mommy was a housewife. She had time. I have a career. I’m very busy.”

“You’re good children, you understand, right?”

The twins blinked, nodding automatically.

“Tell you what,” Eleanor chirped, pulling two cans from the fridge. “Special juice today! Aunt Eleanor can’t cook, but she can buy you all the yummy treats!”

The strong orange scent masked the alcohol.

The children gulped it down. It tasted good. Soon, the cans were empty.

Their faces flushed crimson, and they slumped into a heavy, drunken sleep before dinner.

“Put them to bed. Out of my sight.”

Eleanor’s voice dripped with disdain.

A maid hovered, concern warring with fear. “Miss Snow… they’re so little. Alcohol… it could hurt them…”

Her heart ached. Every child deserved care.

These two, for all their faults, had been kind to her.

How could Eleanor be so cruel?

Eleanor’s eyes turned venomous. “Shut up. Breathe a word, and you’re finished.”

The maid fell silent, clutching her job.

The next morning, Connor and Chloe woke groggy, their stomachs churning.

Connor craved Mommy’s nourishing rice porridge. Chloe longed for her steaming wonton soup.

Eleanor placed two boxes of sickly-sweet, chocolate-drenched cookies on the table. “Breakfast.”

She switched to flawless French. “Les français mangent souvent le dessert le matin. Vous serez de petits messieurs et de petites dames plus tard. Habituez-vous.” (“The French often start with pastries. Little ladies and gentlemen must adapt.”)

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I Was His Allergen, She Was The Cure. What If This Allergen Turns Lethal?

Chapter 12

Hearing this, the twins swallowed their complaints.

After forcing down the cloying cookies, Chloe sidled up to Eleanor. “Aunt Eleanor? Can you braid my hair like Mommy? I know she’s just a

housewife, but you’re so smart! You’d learn super fast!” She missed the pretty styles.

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. She smiled. “I have a better idea, chérie. Close your eyes.”

Trusting, Chloe obeyed.

She opened them to see her reflection. A choked sob escaped her.

“MY HAIR! MY HAIR!”

Her precious waist-length hair, untouched since infancy, was gone.

Butchered into a crude, short bob.

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