CHAPTER 101: CHAPTER 101: BITTEN BY A DOG?

Isabella Weaver couldn’t help but tap her forehead. Was she still dreaming? Why was she being treated like a princess in a movie!

On the table, steam rose from the food, emitting a tempting aroma: almond porridge, jade corn soup, shredded chicken with mountain delicacies, crispy golden pancakes, candied cherries, crystal shrimp dumplings...

A breakfast with dozens of dishes; living at the renowned "Watch King’s" house for so many years, Isabella had never seen such extravagance.

She wanted to tell Harry Hunter that he had sent too much, but when she picked up her phone, she realized she didn’t even have his number.

There was another knock on the door, and Isabella opened it to see the person she meant to call.

"Mr. Hunter..."

Harry Hunter nodded slightly, his gaze falling on the fingers she used to open the door: "What happened to your hand?"

Isabella withdrew her hand: "It’s nothing, just an accident."

Harry Hunter extended his hand: "Let me see."

"There’s no need, really, it’s nothing."

Harry Hunter grasped her wrist and carefully examined her hand, asking coolly: "Did a dog bite you?"

Isabella felt he seemed a bit displeased and reluctantly nodded: "Yes." Better to blame Cousin and pretend a dog did it.

"In the future, don’t casually let dogs in at night."

He released Isabella’s hand and walked inside with long strides, directly sitting at the table: "Come and eat."

Isabella wasn’t sure why, but she felt inexplicably guilty, as if she’d done something against her husband.

Though clearly, there was nothing!

They weren’t even truly married!

She slowly sat at the table, only now noticing that Connor had not only sent breakfast but also brought two sets of cutlery, meaning Harry Hunter had planned to come over and eat.

After a while, Isabella finally spoke: "This is too extravagant; I can just eat a little, no need to send more."

"Alright."

Harry Hunter responded lightly, served her porridge, and began eating breakfast himself.

Isabella couldn’t tell if his "alright" meant he agreed or not, but after drinking the porridge, she couldn’t help but look at his face.

Morning sunlight streamed in through the window, casting over him.

He controlled his emotions well, never easily revealing his thoughts, cold and mysterious, indifferent yet strong.

He ate without making a sound, his back straight, posture elegant, clearly having had an excellent upbringing to have developed such aristocratic dining habits.

In comparison, though the Weaver family was wealthy, they were essentially nouveau riche. Isabella’s grandparents were genuine farmers, never paying attention to such details; filling one’s belly was good enough, exhausting all their savings to educate their son. Christopher Weaver only became mindful after gaining wealth later on.

"Why aren’t you eating?"

Harry Hunter glanced at her: "Not to your taste? I’ll call someone to remake it."

As he spoke, he picked up his phone to call Connor.

Isabella hurriedly grabbed the phone: "No need! It’s perfectly to my taste!"

With this table of food already being too much to handle, if another table was sent, she’d be eating for a week!

"Okay."

Harry Hunter agreed, lowering his head to continue his meal.

Just as Isabella put down his phone, she suddenly saw the contact list on his phone.

The first entry on the list: "A Isabella."

Did he specifically add an "A" to make her number the first?

"Mr. Hunter, you have my phone number?"

"Yes."

Isabella didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, just feeling like this man was becoming increasingly inscrutable.