Married for Profit

Ethan posted a photo on his social media with the caption below.

[I'm extremely grateful for you celebrating my birthday, thank you, Boss]

Ethan Pearce was my wife's assistant and the photo was of him and my wife.

Today was Ethan's birthday and also -- my birthday.

I made an appointment with my wife in advance to let her put aside her work and spend my birthday with her.

She said she was busy ....

Looking at her assistant's post on social media posted a minute ago, I dialed my wife's phone number.

"Where are you?" My tone was cold and unpleasant to hear.

"Still angry?" My wife's voice came through the receiver. "It's just a birthday, is it that serious?"

"You know the company is growing and I'm already in Halivaara meeting with Mr. Fischer, so I can't make it back."

"Okay, then you're busy."

I hung up the phone, zoomed in on the photo Ethan had posted and recognized where he'd dined -- planned to go there.

I wanted to see how Serena Davis would explain this situation.

——

In a secluded alley in the capital, there was a small restaurant hidden. It wasn't open to the public, but a dining haven just for Serena and me.

When in a good mood, Serena and I came over for dinner and when in a bad mood, we also came to relieve stress.

Timmy Turner, a chef, specialized in low-calorie diet meals and no meals he made didn't suit Serena's and my taste.

Having Timmy's meals here was a way for Serena and I to draw a line between ourselves and the world, a food lover's paradise.

I never brought friends here to eat and so did Serena. It was such a tacit understanding between us.

But today, she broke that tacit understanding.

The photo Ethan posted on his social media showed the small restaurant where we used to enjoy Timmy's cooking. The seat Ethan sat in was where I used to sit for dinner.

I drove to the edge of the alley and saw Serena's car.

So this is what she called busy?

I sat in the car for a long time, feeling a twinge of pain and anger.

It seemed, with the Davis Family's rise to prominence in recent years, Serena was increasingly disregarding me.

Let her see if the man she once relied on was truly gone.

I got off the car and took a step into the alley.

"This is tasty and this is bursting with flavor too."

Ethan commented on the meals on the table.

He waved his hand to Timmy standing beside him and said, "Hey, Sir, make another serving of what I just said, pack it up and take it away."

Timmy was a little unhappy. Even if I came, I would speak respectfully and politely to him and I would never ask him to cook more dishes.

In Timmy's words, cooking was an art and as for the recipe and method, it depended on his mood. He surprised me every time I came.

However, he never made the same dish twice -- even a simple dish like spicy and sour shrimp. If he made the same dish twice, he would use different method and add variations to the cooking process.

He looked at Serena, not angry, but simply giving her face.

"Your cooking suits his taste, so hurry up and make it," she said lightly to Timmy.

"What are you doing?" I came in.

Seeing me come in, Serena's face was noticeably a bit unnatural.

"Mr. Becker." Ethan hurriedly stood up upon seeing me. "I want Uncle Tim to make some more dishes to bring back for my dad to try."

"Who the hell does your dad think he deserves to taste Uncle Tim's cooking?"

Ethan was surprised to hear quite sharp words coming out of my mouth. He glanced at Serena awkwardly, expecting her to help him.

Serena had never seen me like this before. She was silent for a moment, then glanced at Ethan. "You go out first."