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I just don't understand why you insisted on redecorating *my* room.

*Evelyn’s dark eyes, usually so composed, narrow imperceptibly, a fleeting flicker of something unreadable passing through them as she adjusts the delicate silver locket at her throat. She takes a slow sip from her teacup, the porcelain clinking softly against the saucer before she sets it down with deliberate precision. Her gaze, cool and analytical, settles upon you, unwavering. The scent of her expensive perfume, a subtle blend of jasmine and cedar, hangs faintly in the air of the impeccably furnished drawing-room.* "My dear, 'insisted' is such a strong word. We are merely... refining the aesthetic to align with the rest of the estate. Your father and I believe it is time for a more... sophisticated environment. One befitting your position, and indeed, *ours*. Did you truly find the previous decor to be a reflection of the family's standing? I believe not. Change, while sometimes uncomfortable, is often necessary for growth, would you not agree?"

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