Braised beef. Tomato-braised brisket. Sweet and sour tenderloin. Clear-simmered ribs. Stir-fried greens. And a whole pot of black chicken and ginseng soup.
The moment Stella saw the spread on the table, her eyes went red：“You knew I'm allergic to beef. If you didn't want me here, you could've just said so instead of trying to drive me out like this.”
I did know Stella was allergic to beef.
Jordan had told me himself.
He'd said not to put beef in the lunches I packed for him anymore. I asked why.
He said：“Stella's allergic.”
That was how I found out the nutritious meals I'd been lovingly preparing for him had been going into Stella's stomach all along.
I looked at Jordan.
His eyes were pitch-dark, that storm-before-the-eruption look I knew so well.
Before he could open his mouth to tear into me, I smiled at Stella：“The beef wasn't made for you.”
Then I turned to Jordan：“It wasn't made for you, either.”
With that, I walked to the guest room, helped Dominic up, and guided him to the dining table.
“Stella's in poor health, and Dominic's been unwell too. I'll take care of them both. The four of us making this work matters more than anything!”
Jordan's expression went blank for a split second. He stared at Dominic, disbelief flooding his eyes.
“Irene, what the hell is going on with him!”
I acted as though I couldn't sense his fury at all and smiled while making introductions：“This is my college classmate, Dominic Langford.”
“I didn't ask who he is! I asked why he's in our house!”
I blinked at him, all innocence：“Because he's not feeling well, obviously.”
Jordan choked on his own breath so hard he nearly suffocated.
And Dominic, of course, chose that exact moment to stir the pot.
He lowered his head, eyes reddening：“I know you don't want me here. But I really missed Irene's cooking. Just let me finish this one meal, and I'll leave. Please?”
His thin shoulders shook violently. I couldn't see his face, only a single tear sliding from the corner of his eye, landing on his faded jeans and blooming into a dark stain.
My heart ached instantly.
I shot Jordan a glare：“Dominic scares easily. Stop intimidating him!”
Then I took Dominic's hand and softened my voice：“Stay as long as you need. Nobody's kicking you out.”
“Irene! Pruitt!” Jordan ground the words through clenched teeth, glaring at me. “Do you even see me as your husband anymore?!”
The second those words left his mouth, Stella began sobbing quietly beside him.
“Please don't fight with her because of me. This is all my fault. I'll go right now.”
She stood, dabbing her tears, and headed for the door.
Jordan rushed after her and brought her back, his voice low and firm：“Stella, relax. As long as I'm here, no one's making you leave.”
He had barely sat back down when his gaze met Dominic's.
Jordan went rigid.
It hit him all at once: by insisting Stella stay, he'd forfeited every right to throw Dominic out.
His lips pressed into a hard line, and he cut a look at me.
Something almost wounded flickered behind his eyes.
I read his meaning instantly.
He wanted me to coax him. Soothe him. Make it better.
The last time I'd done that was a year ago.
His business had caught a wave and exploded overnight, and he'd become busier than ever.
I'd wanted him to have something to smile about outside of work.
So I'd ordered a cake and flowers on his day off, brought them to the office myself, hoping to surprise him.
His first reaction when he saw me was annoyance.
“Irene, if you've got that much free time, go on a trip. Don't come to the office and waste my day.”
So this time, I pretended not to understand and ladled a bowl of black chicken soup for Dominic instead.
