Cookie Fetish…it runs in the family
"My Lord, I told you not to eat so many cookies!"
Alexis looked at the head butler, then back at the nearly empty plate of cookies, then back at the head butler. "But…they're cookies!"
"My Lord, I told you time and time again to at least leave some for Master Jezebel and Master Cain. They're you're sons for crying out loud—Master Jezebel! Stop picking on your little brother!"
"But he's a wimp!" Jezebel argued.
"That's true," Alexis agreed, nibbling on his umpteenth cookie.
"Mama!" Cain wailed; his tiny hand in his mouth.
"He's two years old! It makes sense that he'd be a wimp!" The butler argued.
The doors burst open and Augusta ran in. "Where's my baby?!" she shouted at her younger brother. Alexis just kept nibbling on his cookie, Jezebel was eyeing the knives on the table, the butler was shaking his head and Cain wobbled over to Augusta, who swooped him up in her arms.
"Mama…"
"My poor Cain, was Daddy being mean again?" she asked the crying toddler. She turned to Jezebel, who had picked up a steak knife and was examining it curiously. "Or was it you?" she hissed. Jezebel just stared at her and snatched the last cookie from the plate. Alexis glared at Jezebel.
"My cookie," he muttered.
"So what if it was?" Jezebel challenged, biting off a piece of the cookie. "He's not really my brother. Why should I care about him?"
Augusta snarled at Jezebel. She noticed Alexis' sour look. "What's your problem?" Her younger brother pointed at his eldest kid.
"He stole my cookie." Augusta's mouth dropped.
"Bad Jezie," Cain said, he had finally stopped wailing. "Jezie stole Daddy's cookies."
"Maybe he's not such a devil's child after all," Alexis murmured.
"Only if he doesn't inherit your cookie fetish, Alexis."
"Like Jezebel?"
"What can I say, Father?" Jezebel smirked, downing the cookie. "It runs in the family."
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Next chapter: Henry the Eighth