Bella froze for a second, then braced herself and answered honestly, “1–I heard you liked the white wine mussels Mrs. Sinclair used to make, so I thought…”
She just wanted to get on his good side, hoping it would help her keep this job.
Jenny quickly jumped in, saying, “I–I’m the one who told her.”
Everyone knew Gregory liked the white wine mussels Anathea made. Even when he dined out with friends, someone would always order that dish for him.
But if they paid close attention, they would notice that he never actually touched it.
Gregory looked at the two women, who were clearly rattled, and said coldly, “Don’t make it again.”
“Yes, sir,” Bella said quickly and rushed to clear the plate of white wine mussels off the table.
Gregory’s mood was ruined. He picked at the remaining food, took just a couple more bites, then set down his utensils.
Just then, a message from Eleanor lit up his phone. He grabbed it, stood up, and left the house without another word.
As they watched Gregory’s figure disappear, Bella and Jenny finally exhaled.
“Mr. Sinclair is terrifying…” As Bella recalled the overwhelming pressure Gregory had exuded just moments ago, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her legs were still trembling slightly.
She didn’t even know what she’d done to offend him. Cautiously, she tugged at Jenny’s sleeve and whispered, “Jenny, did I screw up the dish?”
“It’s not the dish.” Jenny shook her head.
She glanced at the now–removed plate of white wine mussels. As she thought back to everything she’d seen over the years, she finally realized something. “It’s who made it.”
the
Gregory didn’t love white wine mussels. He only loved the way Anathea made them.
He probably didn’t even realize it himself.
Gregory pulled up outside the Sinclair residence.
As soon as he entered the living room, he spotted a small crowd gathered around a flower arrangement, admiring it.
“Not bad at all. You’ve only just started, and you’re already creating such beautiful work,” Eleanor praised. “Nat, you really have a talent for this kind of thing.”
“Yeah, Ms. Whitman is one of the most promising students I’ve ever had. She picks things up so fast and isn’t afraid to get creative,” Blake chimed in with a smile.
“It’s all thanks to your patient teaching, Mr. Johannson. I wouldn’t have come this far without it,” Natalie said.
Blake beamed. “You’re too humble, Ms. Whitman. Keep this up, and maybe you’ll be entering the International Fistry Competition one day.”
Natalie’s cheeks turned a soft pink from all the praise.
During the days she was injured, Eleanor had found the best doctor in all of Castanea to treat her and made sure she had every top–tier, expensive ointment available.
So in less than a week, the wounds on her face had already scabbed over and fallen off, leaving behind only a faint mark. It would be barely noticeable under a bit of foundation. Even her legs had mostly recovered. She could walk on her own now.
Chapter 151
+25 BONUS
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Why the Crocodile Tears (by Flower Sock)