Nick noticed the pained expression on Mirabe''s face over the shipping costs and paused briefly before asking, "Mirabe, are you running low on cash?"


    Scratching her head, Mirabe frowned in frustration. "How should I put it? I''m t broke!"


    She couldn''t even sell her potions without the family finding out. Despite having messed with their satellitework over a year ago, it was likely almost fixed by


    now.


    And the money she had made before was nearly all gone. So, she was genuinely broke, to the point where she was struggling to afford shipping costs.


    James, standing nearby, nced at her silently when he heard the word "broke."


    Someone who could afford a multimillion-dor stash of herbs, calling herself broke?


    "Here, take this card," Nick said, already pulling his wallet out of his pocket.


    He couldn''t fathom why their parents wouldn''t give his sister money, but since he rarely had anything to spend on, he figured he might as well let his sister use it.


    Mirabe watched her brother''s gesture with a twitch of her lips. Truly a Davis family trait, passing cards and making transfers just like that.


    She coughed a bit, pressing her hands together tightly and shook her head in refusal. "Thanks, Nick, but hardship breeds character. I think being broke is good for me."


    Nick paused, taken aback.


    Mirabe quickly added, "I should head upstairs," clutching the package she was carrying and swiftly disappearing into the house.


    Seeing this, Nick could only sigh and put the card away, only for James to chime in, "Nick, how about a coffee?"


    Nick''s gentle expression hardened as he cast a sideways nce at him. Damn, always seizing the opportunity to be a nuisance!


    He then turned and headed for the backyard.


    There, Catherine was about to butcher a chicken she''d caught, but the ground was slippery, and she lost her footing, starting to fall backward uncontrobly.


    Nick''s eyes sharpened as he quickly stepped forward, catching her with agile movements.


    After Catherine regained her bnce, she let out a breath of relief, "Thank goodness you were here, Nick, or I would''ve taken a spill today."


    Nick helped her to the shelter of the porch, casting a wary eye over the moss- covered stone path in the yard. The surface was clearly slippery when wet. Considering Catherine often lived alone, idents like the one just averted could easily happen again. He made a mental note to have someonee over and redo the paving.


    "Need help with the chicken?" Nick asked, noticing the bird in Catherine''s grasp. "Yes," she nodded.


    "I got it, you rest," Nick offered, already rolling up his sleeves.


    Catherine waved him off, "No need, I can manage. You young folks probably aren''t used to butchering chickens. I don''t want you to dirty your clothes."


    Hearing this, memories shed through Nick''s mind. He nced at his left hand before softly replying, "I can do it."


    After all, the difference between a man and a chicken was merely in their makeup; the process of killing them wasn''t all that different.


    With that, Nick took the chicken from Catherine''s hands and went to fetch a knife from the kitchen.


    Catherine followed, assisting him.


    "By the way, Grandma, do your daughters visit often?" Nick asked casually as he worked, nowfortable enough to address Catherine as his sister did.


    At the mention of her daughters, a bitter smile flickered across Catherine''s lips. "She''s probably too busy. Doesn''te around much."


    Nick paused in his task, then asked, "And... Summer?"