The maids nervously nodded and quickly turned to head to the kitchen.
Katrina's face turned pale with anger as she gritted her teeth and glared at Carlisle. "If you're upset with me, don't take it out on them."
Carlisle took the damp towel handed to him by one of the maids and casually wiped the soup off his hand. "I pay them such high wages, yet they can't even do their job properly. What good are they to me?"
At his words, the maids standing nearby turned pale, casting pleading glances toward Katrina.
Seeing their desperate expressions, Katrina clenched her fists. In the end, she sat down.
"Have them stop. I'll eat," Katrina said coldly.
Her compromise made Carlisle curl his lips in satisfaction. He shot a look at James, who immediately understood and went to relay the instructions to the kitchen.
"I remember this used to be your favorite dish. I even had someone learn the recipe just for you. Try it—see if it still tastes the same," Carlisle said as he picked up a portion and placed it into her bowl.
Katrina ignored the food he had given her and instead picked up her spoon to eat.
Carlisle noticed she hadn't touched the food he offered. He tightened his grip on his spoon, but he suppressed his displeasure and said nothing.
He didn't try to force her again. Instead, he began eating quietly as well.
Surprisingly, this became one of the rare moments when they sat together peacefully and shared a meal.
Carlisle couldn't help but feel a strange sense of peace, which reminded him of the early years he spent with Katrina. A look of nostalgia flashed in his eyes.
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