Isabella Weaver wore a clean and simple business suit, her face pure and smiling faintly. Her fair fingers held a piece of black jade, making her look as pure and beautiful as an otherworldly fairy!
And her?
Covered in the sll of oil and smoke, with an apron splattered with countless oil spots, fingers wrapped in bandages, makeup sared—all in all, as disheveled as can be!
Cherry Lewis gritted her teeth with hatred!
Just wait, wait until the day it’s your turn to cook; you’ll definitely taste the humiliation!
What’s so great about being the Young Madam of the Hunter Family?
One day, she’ll pull Isabella Weaver down from that position!
The sky had already gone dark when Isabella Weaver and Harry Hunter finished their ga of chess. It was just in ti for dinner. The two washed their hands and sat down at the dining table.
Sixteen dishes, Isabella glanced over them, then looked at Cherry Lewis, seeing her pale and exhausted after cooking for two to three hours, lacking her usual spirit and pride.
And who knows if Cherry did it on purpose, but the three dishes she requested didn’t look particularly good, and the shrimp balls were even burnt.
The other dishes, however, were quite well-presented, clearly practiced many tis.
Isabella certainly wouldn’t eat the burnt ones, opting for the prettier ones.
Cherry watched her, a hint of malice flickering in her eyes, smiling as she asked, "Isabella, why aren’t you eating your three chosen dishes? You ordered them but won’t eat—is it that you look down on or are you intentionally trying to ss with ?"
The old lady imdiately called for a servant to place Isabella’s three chosen dishes in front of her: "Cherry worked hard to make these, and since you chose these three, you must eat them all. We of the Hunter Family do not waste food!"
Isabella used the public chopsticks to pick up a shrimp ball and placed it in the old lady’s bowl: "Grandma, you eat first. Cherry worked hard on these; have more."
The old lady’s face instantly darkened: "Who told you to serve ? Such unruly behavior—is this how your parents taught you?"
Isabella looked puzzled: "Did I do sothing wrong? You just complained I didn’t give you gifts—now I haven’t eaten and served you first, yet you’re still unsatisfied? Oh, I know, you don’t approve of Cherry’s dish?"
She picked up the plate and handed it to Grace Watt standing behind her: "Grandma is disgusted by this corn and fresh shrimp ball, go dispose of it."
Grace Watt, who had followed Isabella to the Hunter Family and had hardly been noticed, suddenly drew everyone’s attention.
She took the plate, swiftly dumping the shrimp balls into the trash, saying indifferently, "It’s all burnt like this, such poor cooking skills—how can you serve this to disgust the old lady? Isn’t that right, Miss Lewis?"
For once, she was so quick-witted that Isabella couldn’t help but find it amusing, especially seeing Cherry’s face as dark as the bottom of a pot, making her feel she could eat three bowls of rice tonight!
Cherry stood up angrily from her seat: "Isabella Weaver, don’t push too far! I worked tirelessly to make those shrimp balls for you, and you throw them away to humiliate —you have a truly wicked heart!"
Isabella blinked in surprise, saying innocently, "Huh, how is this my fault? Clearly, it was Grandma’s disdain that led to dispose of them. These shrimp balls can’t magically change just because I used public chopsticks, right? They’re your creation; if Grandma won’t eat them, it’s a sign they’re not done well. With Grandma not eating, neither will I, naturally they can’t be served to Grandpa either. No one will eat them, so they have to be thrown away."
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