So, holding the soup in his mouth for a long while, waiting until his taste buds had sowhat adjusted to the indescribable flavor, he finally swallowed with difficulty and took a breath.
Lucas King: "...Mr. Hart, are you all right? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere? I’ll call a doctor."
"There’s no need." Christopher Hart replied weakly, asking, "What kind of soup is this?"
"The lady said it was carrot and mutton stew. It’s been getting colder these days, and you’re weak, so you need so nourishnt. She specially made mutton soup for you."
"Mutton soup tastes like this?"
Lucas King brought the soup closer and sniffed, frowning, "Hmm, seems like... there’s a pepper taste."
Christopher Hart’s misery was hard to convey.
It was more than just a taste of pepper.
The soup was both salty and spicy when it hit the tongue.
Salty, naturally, because too much salt had been added.
Spicy, because there was too much pepper powder.
With certain soone’s cooking skills, it was impossible to make sothing so difficult to swallow, akin to poison—unless she did it on purpose!
Having been by Christopher Hart’s side for many years, Lucas King naturally knew his living habits and dietary preferences.
His boss, Mr. Hart, was quite picky.
He glanced at the soup in his hands and hesitated, "Mr. Hart... do you still, want to drink it?"
He suddenly understood why the lady hadn’t delivered it herself—turns out the couple had another misunderstanding, and the lady deliberately "poisoned" the soup to "punish" their boss.
He dared not laugh, but he couldn’t help but inwardly cheer: The lady is mighty.
Christopher Hart furrowed his brow, both amused and lanting within.
Won’s hearts are as deep as the ocean, this saying indeed didn’t slander won.
He had simply misspoken in the afternoon and offended her, and co evening, she had already "poisoned" him.
"The lady went through the effort to make it, of course I have to drink..." he said with the air of a warrior preparing for the final blow.
Lucas King was extrely surprised, thinking his boss was mighty too— one dared to make it, and one dared to drink it; the pair were indeed perfectly matched!
But then he heard the boss command, "Dilute it with so hot water."
"... " He almost burst into laughter, realizing the boss was actually retreating.
------------
Alia Garcia was telling the children a story, but she kept an eye on her phone from ti to ti.
There were continuous WhatsApp ssages, mostly work-related groups, or various group buying groups among classmates.
However, there wasn’t a single phone call.
She found it hard to believe.
After setting Christopher Hart up like that, given his vengeful nature and volatile temper, he hadn’t called to confront her?
Or...
Did that "poisonous soup" really knock him out?
But if sothing went wrong after drinking it, shouldn’t Lucas King have called her by now?
Yet... there was no call.
"Mom, you turned the page wrong, you skipped one, Campbell said that line," Noah suddenly reminded her, flipping back a page in her hand.
"Oh, sorry, Mom turned two pages at once," Alia snapped back to reality and began to recount the story.
Ethan cocked his head to look at her, "Mom, what’s wrong? Are you thinking about Dad?"
"Thinking about Dad?" she denied quickly, "Impossible, what’s there to think about him?"
"Mom, when are we going to see Dad? He must be in a lot of pain after surgery, and if he sees us, he certainly won’t be in pain anymore," Hope spoke sweetly, already quite adept with words.
"Well, your dad has been weak these past few days, always asleep. Let’s wait and see the day after tomorrow."
"Oh..."
After dryly reading through a hefty copy of Campbell, Alia beckoned the two little ones to lie down and then picked up her daughter and held her in her arms, "Okay, off to sleep! We have to go to kindergarten tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Mommy," Noah and Ethan said politely as they bid farewell.
"Goodnight, my darlings."
Leaving the boys’ room, Alia carried her little girl back to the master bedroom.
Hope rode on her waist, one hand clinging to her shoulder, the other playing with the hair draped over her chest, "Mommy, have you forgiven Daddy?"
Her daughter’s unexpected question sent a slight tremor through Alia.
Had her attitude obviously changed recently?
Could even the children see it?
Seeing her mother’s puzzled expression, Hope continued, "You’ve been cooking als and making soup for Daddy and having Uncle Lucas King deliver it to him. You’re so kind to Daddy; you must have forgiven him."
"Brother said Daddy did sothing wrong before and you left to punish him."
"Mommy, since Daddy knows his mistakes and has corrected them, please forgive him. I want Mommy and Daddy to be together."
"From now on, and my brothers will be watching him. We’ll make sure he never dares to make a mistake or bully Mommy again!"
The little girl rattled on maturely, her words making one cry and laugh, each utterance laced with caution as she tried to appease her mother on her father’s behalf.
Alia felt a mixture of emotions within her, nudging her daughter’s forehead gently as she said sweetly, "You... really are your father’s little padded jacket, not in vain has he raised and cherished you."
Hope smiled sweetly, "Then does Mommy agree?"
Alia didn’t want to deceive her daughter, nor did she treat her like an ignorant child, seriously saying, "Mommy and Daddy have their own agreent. If Daddy can do it, Mommy will consider forgiving him."
"What’s the agreent?"
"That’s a secret between Daddy and Mommy."
"Okay then..."
That day, she had made it clear to Christopher Hart that if he could pull himself together and return to living a normal life, she would consider their future.
But whether this could happen, nobody knew.
After putting her daughter to sleep, it was already nine-thirty.
She returned to her computer, continuing to work on the project proposal.
President Lewis and President Morgan of the venture capital firms had said they hoped the collaboration could be finalized when they returned from their business trips.
She had to get the project proposal right within these few days.
As for the recent issue of the new product designs being copied, since the involved party, Olivia Williams, had returned to the country and was willing to testify, the lawyers were busy with the preparations, about to initiate legal proceedings soon.
She only needed to appear in court, and the rest would be handled by legal affairs.
Thinking about the pile of issues at hand, she sat in front of the computer, tiredly rubbing the corners of her eyes and letting out a slow sigh.
Her phone rang.
She put down what she was doing, sat up, and took a look at the phone, her eyes shifting slightly, her lips pursing lightly.
This guy... he had to co to claim his rights in the end.
"Hello..."
Hearing her low and listless tone, Christopher Hart asked with concern, "What’s the matter? Are you not feeling well, or did you fall asleep?"
"Neither, just busy. Seeing your call just irritates ," she said, as blunt as ever.
"..." Christopher paused, his voice not sounding great, "Do you really detest that much?"
She didn’t want to argue and asked, "What are you calling for so late at night?"
"Huh—"
It seed there was a faint laugh on the other end before he spoke in a careless tone, "You’ve gone to all the trouble to cook als and soup and send them over for , I should at least express my thanks after I’ve eaten."
Her drooping eyes lifted, her mouth’s corners pressed down, she got up and walked out of the bedroom, replying indifferently, "When have you ever been so polite? If Mr. Hart fancies my cooking, it’s my great fortune in three lifetis."
In truth, she was very curious as to whether he had actually drunk the soup or not.
Yet I couldn’t just ask directly...
"Since it’s like this, let’s keep this honor going. From tomorrow on, I’m contracting you for all three als of my day—after all, who else has a child whose mother is such a superb cook? You’ve spoiled my palate, making it nearly impossible to swallow any of the food out there."
What?!
Alia was shocked inside, and she shouted out at the sa ti, "Christopher Hart! Are you out of your mind? I’m swamped every day, when would I have ti to prepare three als a day for you?!"
"Aren’t you incredibly capable? Managing both family and career without missing a beat, and thriving at that. You’re so exceptional, I believe you can handle just a bit more."
"Dream on! Even if I had the ti, I wouldn’t wait on you!"
As expected, narrow-minded and petty to the last.
All she did was add a little sothing to the soup, and he was quick to retaliate.
"That’s a real sha... I was looking forward to enjoying such uniquely flavored nourishing soups every day."
...
Finally getting to that topic, Alia blushed with a guilty conscience—fortunately, he couldn’t see it through the phone.
She laughed, "So yeah, my cooking isn’t all that great, you really shouldn’t trouble anymore."
"No, your cooking really is unparalleled, I finished every last bit of it tonight."
What?!
Alia was taken aback, "You... finished the soup?"
"Yes, I didn’t waste a single drop."
"You... really have acquired a taste."
"I couldn’t waste your hard work."
...Alia held the phone, lips pursed silent.
After all this ti, this guy had just beaten around the bush, wanting her to admit she’d tampered with the soup.
"Alright, you better rest up, I still have work to deal with." Two adults of significant age, chatting on the phone deep into the night—it felt weird, and she was eager to hang up.
But Christopher Hart was reluctant to let go and didn’t respond.
Suddenly silence fell on both ends, and the atmosphere grew charged with intimacy. Alia felt increasingly uncomfortable and muttered softly, "I’m hanging up now..."
"Will you co over tomorrow?" he asked again.
"Tomorrow... if I’m free I’ll co by, but I probably won’t have ti to make soup, so you’ll have to trouble President Hart to continue drinking the swill from the restaurant."
With that said, she didn’t wait for a response and hung up.
On the other side, Mr. Hart, lying in his hospital bed and listening to the drone in his ear, curved his lips into a smile.
When had his Alia beco so petty?
Her capability for snide remarks seed to grow with each day.
But as long as she was happy, that’s all that mattered.
The caregiver, seeing he had finished his call, ca over to move the landline from beside his pillow.
Mr. Hart frowned slightly, "I’m thirsty, pour another glass of water..."
"Alright."
————
Every morning was the busiest ti for Alia.
Even though Aunt Harper and Sister Jones both lived in to help take care of the three little ones, mornings were still like going to war when in a rush.
Hurriedly at the door, the three kids sat in a row putting on their shoes.
Little Dunham ca running over, loyally circling around the children. His tail wagging as he let out soft whines and howls.
"Little Dunham, you need to be good at ho! We’re off to kindergarten~" Noah finished with his shoes and crouched down to hug the rotund Little Dunham, then gave his adorable dog head a rub.
"Alright, alright, off we go, mommy’s going to be late for work."
Alia called out, prompting the three little ones to finally start bustling out the door.
Fuller was waiting next to the impressive Lincoln "Presidential One," and as the kids ran over, he picked each one up and placed them in the car.
Alia was also accustod to sitting in the back seat, which made it easier to spend more ti with the children.
Speaking of this car, she still felt a bit embarrassed.
Christopher had initially ordered this car for the convenience of picking up and dropping off the three little ones for school.
But within a few days, he had an accident.
Now he was still lying in the hospital, and this expensive luxury car ended up benefiting her.
Fuller, along with several bodyguards, escorted the children back and forth every day and also took her to and from work.
That man, even while bedridden and motionless, still took care of her and the children with the utmost attention to detail.
No matter how tough she was outwardly, she had to admit to herself—she had taken advantage of a man once again.
The Lincoln had just started when Alia’s phone rang, scattering the cluttered thoughts in her mind.
"Hello, darling, why are you calling so early?"
Alia was in a good mood, her tone light and smiling.
But Snow’s mood was not good, and after hesitating for a while, she finally spoke, "Alia, there’s sothing... I’m going to disappoint you again."
The downcast tone of her best friend caused Alia’s smile to freeze.
She instantly realized, "It couldn’t be... the venture capital... again—"
"Um," Snow affird, guiltily saying, "The recent call from President Morgan, he said that after careful consideration, they still feel the investnt risk is too high and, after thoughtful deliberation, the team has decided to abandon this investnt."
Alia sighed deeply to herself, at a loss for words.
She had stayed up until nearly two in the morning the night before, finally perfecting the project proposal, and she had been looking forward to reviewing it with Snow today.
But now... it was once again a wasted effort.
The little ones watched her, sensing the change in her mood, and they also fell silent, staring at her with big eyes.
"Alia, I’m sorry, every person I’ve found... has been unreliable, and I’m really angry too. The initial eting went so well, they said they would sign the contract when they returned from their business trip, but who knows what made them change their minds."
Hearing her best friend apologize, Alia cheered up and quickly reassured her, "It’s not your fault, why are you apologizing to ? You’ve helped so much already, I can’t thank you enough."
"But none of it has been successful..."
"That’s not on you, don’t be silly."
"Alright..." Snow replied, murmuring again, "It’s just that... I find this ti a bit strange, I don’t think the reason is what President Morgan has stated."
Alia felt sowhat confused, but without giving it much thought, responded indifferently, "The money is in their hands, whether they want to invest is their choice, there’s no need to dwell on it, we’ll find another way."
"Okay," Snow replied, swallowing her words, her confidence lacking as she suggested, "Alia, since it’s so hard... why don’t you go to Christopher Hart? Two billion is just a trifle to him, why do you have to be so..."
"Snow, I have my own principles, if it cos down to it, I’ll talk to the Countess and Kane to see if they can grant so extension."
Snow knew her temperant and didn’t press further, "Alright, I’ll keep looking."
Noah, seeing his mom put down the phone with a serious and unhappy expression, nudged her arm and asked, "Mommy, what’s wrong?"
Alia forced a smile again, "It’s nothing, just so work stuff. After I drop you guys off at preschool, I’ll deal with it."
"Can Mommy handle it well?" Hope inquired.
"Of course! Mommy is very capable!"
Ethan finished his milk, burped contentedly, "That’s right! My mommy is the best!"
Hope said, "Your mommy is my mommy too!"
"..." Alia was a bit helpless, quickly smoothing over, "Yes, yes, Mommy is both of yours. Ethan, after drinking so much milk, how are you going to eat breakfast?"
Noah suggested, "Mommy, just give him another bottle of milk, it won’t interfere with eating breakfast."
Ethan giggled, "My brother knows so well."
"..." Alia, whose mood had been sowhat gloomy, felt it lift considerably after being teased by the three little ones.
Over the past years, she had been through tis many tis tougher than this mont. What was this minor difficulty in comparison?
Human effort is the decisive factor. As long as there’s effort, there will always be more solutions than difficulties!
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