Marry Ex's Billionaire Uncle After Divorce (Aurora and Jasper) novel Chapter 66

Chapter 45: The Confession–2

“Mr. Everett,” she said, her voice respectful but guarded.

I stepped in and pressed the button for the garage. The doors slid shut, sealing us in the quiet steel box.

“We’re off the clock,” I said, watching her reflection in the polished metal doors. “Call me Phineas.”

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She hesitated. Her lips parted, but the name stuck in her throat. She couldn’t bridge the gap.

“Thank you… for today,” she said softly instead. “I owe you a huge favor. Again.”

I turned to face her, a faint smile playing on my lips. “You do.”

An opportunity presented itself.

“My chef is off tonight,” I lied smoothly. “You live in the apartment below mine. Cook dinner for me.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Cook? For you? To repay the favor?”

“Consider it a transaction,” I said. “Do you accept?”

“Okay,” she said slowly, nodding. “Do you have any allergies? Anything you absolutely hate?”

“Butler Alfred will have the ingredients prepped,” I said, enjoying her flustered expression. “I’ll pay you the hourly rate of a Michelin–star chef.”

“No!” She waved her hands frantically. “If I’m repaying a favor, I can’t take money. That defeats the purpose.”

I took a step closer. The elevator suddenly felt very small. I leaned in, invading her personal space just enough to make her breath hitch.

“If you won’t take money,” I murmured, my voice dropping an octave, “then in what capacity are you cooking for me, Aurora?”

Her cheeks flushed a deep, lovely crimson.

*Ding.*

The elevator doors opened to the garage.

“I’ll… I’ll see you later,” she stammered, practically running out of the elevator.

Chapter 45. The Confession–2

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I watched her go, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. The prey was walking right into the trap.

(Author’s POV)

While Phineas was setting his plans in motion, Victoria Everett stood in the grand foyer of the main Everett estate.

She clutched a box of expensive herbal supplements, her knuckles tight. This was the heart of the family empire, a place she rarely had access to. The ceilings were impossibly high, the marble floors gleaming under crystal chandeliers that cost more than her entire home. It was a maze of old money and power.

“For the Matriarch,” Victoria told the butler, handing over the package with a deferential nod. “Please tell Eleanor I wish her good health. These are very rare.”

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