Lying in bed that night, Yvonne Sutton was still fuming.
She just didn’t understand Vincent Reed. He was going to marry the love of his life, even if she was carrying another man’s child, and he was doing it willingly. If that was the case, he should be happily embracing his new life. Why did he keep bothering her?
Just then, a call ca in from an unknown number.
Yvonne answered and was t with a heavy, pained grunt from the other end.
"Who is this?" she asked.
"It’s ."
Yvonne’s brow furrowed. It was Vincent Reed.
She was about to hang up, but Vincent quickly said, "If you dare hang up, I’ll have soone tear down your parents’ house tomorrow!"
Yvonne gritted her teeth. "Vincent Reed, what the hell do you want?"
"My stomach hurts."
"A stomachache won’t kill you."
"I want the yam congee you make."
"I’d advise you to take so dicine."
"Where is it?"
"Where it’s supposed to be."
"Co help find it."
"Why don’t you just go die instead!"
Hanging up, Yvonne was so angry she had to get up and gulp down a large glass of cold water to cool her temper. She was about to turn off her phone when a ssage ca in from Wyatt Shaw.
"Looks like the temperature is dropping tomorrow. Dress warmly."
Yvonne’s heart ward at the ssage.
"What about where you are?"
"It’s pretty cold."
"You should bundle up too."
"Okay."
Yvonne told him about the renovations. He listened patiently, offering occasional advice. When she ntioned redoing the yard, he just said to do whatever she liked.
"The changes to the yard will be pretty major. My friend said I should probably discuss it with the hoowner."
"You are the hoowner."
"Huh?"
"It’s your house. And it will be your ho."
’A ho,’ she thought. But she didn’t really feel a strong sense of belonging.
After talking about the house, Wyatt Shaw brought up their wedding. His family was already making preparations, so she could start looking at wedding dresses.
"I’ll send you a few pictures. You can pick a style you like, and they’ll make it to your asurents. Once it’s ready, you can go to the shop for a fitting."
The sudden talk of wedding dresses felt a bit surreal to Yvonne. She wasn’t quite used to the idea yet.
"Uh, okay."
Wyatt quickly sent her the pictures. The dresses were all gorgeous, so beautiful they seed like a dream. But her favorite was a sapphire blue satin gown with a V-neck, covered in rhinestones that sparkled like stars.
She sent the picture of this dress to Wyatt, but she regretted it as soon as she hit send. ’Wouldn’t a dress like this be very expensive? Wyatt is still paying off a mortgage.’
But she then made a decision: she would pay for it herself.
"You would look beautiful in it."
anwhile, after Yvonne hung up on him, Vincent Reed angrily threw his phone to the ground. The fit of anger only made his stomach hurt more.
Hearing the noise, Wendy Winters ca down from upstairs. "Vincent, what’s wrong?"
She looked worried as she trotted over to him.
Seeing she was only in a thin nightgown, Vincent quickly got up, took off his suit jacket, and draped it over her.
"It’s nothing, just a bit of a stomachache. Don’t worry, go back to your room and rest."
"Oh, a stomachache? You must have been drinking too much lately."
"A lot of work engagents."
"You should still try to drink less."
Wendy said this as she went to the water dispenser and got him a cup of hot water.
"Here, drink so hot water."
"Okay."
"Do you want to stay with you?"
"No, it’s fine."
"Then I’m going back to bed."
Wendy yawned and went back upstairs.
Vincent held the cup of hot water. It was scalding to the touch, but it couldn’t warm his heart. He forced a sip, but it only made the pain worse, causing him to let out a muffled groan.
He had no choice but to look for the first-aid kit, which he finally found in the living room after nearly turning the place upside down.
The kit was stocked with all sorts of common dicines, neatly arranged. Right on top was the stomach dicine. He picked it up and saw it would expire in just three months.
All the social drinking often left him drunk, which had given him stomach problems. Yvonne had always taken care of him, making all sorts of soothing congees, reminding him to soak his feet in warm water every night. She had even learned a set of abdominal massage techniques from an old traditional Chinese dicine doctor and would do it for him every few days.
By keeping this up, his stomach had gotten much better, and his condition rarely flared up.
But recently, there was no one to cook him soothing congee, no one to remind him to soak his feet, and certainly no one to massage his stomach. So his condition had flared up badly.
After taking the dicine, he collapsed on the sofa and fell asleep. He woke up in the middle of the night, freezing, and groggily called out, "Yvonne, get a blanket."
The sound of his own voice woke him up completely. He couldn’t help but slap himself on the forehead.
「The next morning」
Yvonne first went for a half-hour run, then contacted the driver delivering the flooring and the workers who would install it. After that, she headed to Vincent Reed’s villa.
She rang the doorbell for about ten minutes before a furious-looking Vincent finally opened the door.
"What are you doing here?"
"Wasn’t I fortunate enough to be hired as your family’s nanny? I’m here to make breakfast." Yvonne smiled slyly.
Vincent frowned. "The code is the sa as before. Let yourself in from now on. Don’t disturb Wendy and when we’re resting."
"You should probably change the code. If anything goes missing in the house, I won’t be able to explain myself."
Sidestepping Vincent, Yvonne walked into the kitchen.
The kitchen was covered in a layer of dust. It seed no one had used it since she moved out.
By the ti breakfast was ready, Vincent and Wendy had finished getting ready and ca downstairs.
When Wendy saw her, she smiled smugly. "Yvonne, it’s so good of you to co and work for us."
Yvonne smiled back. "Well, what can I do? I lost my job at the hospital, have no family money and no inco. I have to work to put food on the table."
"Don’t worry, we won’t shortchange you on your salary."
"Of course I’m not worried. Mr. Reed is so generous. Oh, by the way, we’re almost out of soy sauce in the kitchen. Could I trouble Mr. Reed to transfer a few bucks later so I can go buy so?"
Her words were deliberately awkward and grating. Vincent glared at Yvonne.
Breakfast was tomato and beef brisket noodles, a favorite of Vincent’s. Wendy took a bite and said it was a little too salty, telling her to use less salt in the future.
"Alright."
"Have you eaten? Do you want to join us?" Wendy asked.
"I’ll pass. It would be too awkward with three of us."
Wendy laughed. "You can eat in the kitchen. That’s what all the nannies do."
"Ha, and here I was thinking I could eat at the dining table. I really don’t know my place."
"It’s fine. You’ll get used to it."
After the two traded a few more passive-aggressive barbs, Yvonne started to deal with the leftover tomato and beef brisket in the pot.
"Huh, what’s this piece?"
She said it deliberately loud, then pulled a large, tomato-sauce-covered object out of the pot. At this, both Wendy and Vincent looked over.
"Oh my, it couldn’t be a dishrag, could it?"
As soon as they heard "dishrag," they both hurriedly spat out the beef brisket in their mouths.
"It really is. I just used it to wipe the pipes, too."
"BLECH!"
Wendy imdiately started to dry heave and rushed into the downstairs bathroom. Vincent, however, glared at Yvonne, his face grim.
"Did you do that on purpose?"
Yvonne pouted. "How can you accuse like that? I’m just inexperienced as a nanny. I need ti to learn."
’Of course, the real show is yet to co!’
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