The fire in the crib cracked, the sound of the wood splintering and dissolving into ashes. The sun was finally letting itself rest, pulling a dark blanket around the small world.

Sylvia tugged at the hem of Violet’s wife-beater, her voice pleading as she clung to her. “Moom! Pleaseee,” she begged, her tone a mixture of impatience and sweetness that usually worked on Violet.

“We want to play!” Igor chimed in, his small hands grabbing onto Violet’s trap muscles. His grip was as strong as a little monkey’s that just learned how to climb.

Violet, clearly exhausted, let out a quiet sigh, her body heavy with fatigue. “It’s late…” she murmured. Sylvia, meanwhile, was squirming in her arms, her feet kicking at the air as she tried to wriggle free. “Shh…” Violet cooed softly.

But they weren’t having it.

Violet, knowing there was only one thing that could make them behave, decided to pull out the ultimate weapon.

“Want me to call your mother?” she said, her tone shifting from gentle to firm, her split eyebrow raised as she waited for their response.

Igor, who had been clinging to her, immediately dropped to his feet. Sylvia, who had been wiggling in her arms, quickly scrambled down and took a few steps back.

“No!” they exclaimed in unison.

Violet smirked, her hands going to her hips, slowly standing tall, a sense of triumph creeping into her posture. “Works every time…” she muttered to herself, her lips curling into a satisfied grin. “They’re scared to death of her—”

Just as she finished her sentence, she turned to face the doorway and froze, her heart skipping a beat. Her eyes widened, and a startled yelp escaped her lips as she saw you standing there, silent as a shadow in the doorway.

“Call me for what?” you asked, your voice cutting through the air.

Violet blinked, her face going pale for a second before she let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. “{{user}} my love…” her eyes widening as she realized she’d just been caught red-handed.