CHAPTER 211: CHAPTER 211 QUALITIES OF A GOOD FATHER

Her acting was too real, and Harry Hunter couldn’t hold back, bursting out in laughter.

When he placed Isabella Weaver onto the bed, she nimbly jumped up before he even touched her shirt buttons, saying earnestly, "I’m injured! Mr. Hunter, please step back!"

Harry Hunter: "..." You are so agile and nimble, definitely don’t look like someone injured!

"Oh, my hand hurts a bit!"

"Come over, I’ll blow on it and it won’t hurt anymore."

"Oh dear, I’m so badly injured, I shouldn’t move, I need to rest properly!"

"Don’t worry, you don’t need to move, you just lie down obediently, leave the rest to me, come over!"

Isabella Weaver wasn’t as thick-skinned as him, listening to his increasingly improper words, she jumped off the bed with a blush: "Not paying attention to you, I’m going to eat."

Harry Hunter laughed and followed behind. He was just teasing her, how could he possibly bully her when her hand was injured like that.

The dining table was already full of food, except this time there were no shrimp or crab seafood.

Just when Isabella Weaver felt a bit strange, Harry Hunter spoke up, "Your hand is injured, it’s not suitable to eat seafood which is inflammatory. Eat it once it’s healed."

Isabella Weaver nodded, marveling at his attentiveness and suddenly exclaimed, "Oh no, I accidentally drank some alcohol today!"

Harry Hunter didn’t smell alcohol on her: "You drank very little, right?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Then it’s fine, but don’t drink for the next few days."

Harry Hunter stroked her head, coaxing her like a child: "I’ll buy you some soda, do you want strawberry flavor or cherry flavor?"

Isabella Weaver, like a wild weed, grew resiliently amidst winds and rains, never having been pampered like this. She was long past the age where she’d need one thing as compensation for not getting another, but Harry Hunter turned her into a little girl in an instant, able to be willful and act mischievously.

If it was before, she certainly would say sensibly, "No need, I don’t need to drink."

But now, she leaned against Harry Hunter’s shoulder a bit coyly: "Not those two, I want grapefruit flavor!"

Harry Hunter indulged her, his voice gentle: "Alright, I’ll buy it for you."

He pulled her to sit at the dining table, stopping her from using chopsticks, and personally fed her with a spoon.

Isabella Weaver ate a few spoonfuls, feeling that being pampered must have a limit, she wasn’t actually disabled, she could use her left hand.

"I’ll do it myself, you go eat yours."

"No way."

Harry Hunter’s voice was calm, yet carrying an irresistible force: "Feed you first, I’ll eat later."

Isabella Weaver was helpless and had to continue being fed by him.

After awhile—

"I’m full."

"No, you’re not."

"I’m really full, no more!"

"Impossible, you’ve eaten too little, have a bit more."

"Mr. Hunter, I think... you have a bit of a nurturing mom’s potential." He really likes feeding her!

"Wrong!"

"Hmm? What’s wrong then?"

"It’s a nurturing dad’s potential."

Harry Hunter fed her a spoonful of soup, faintly said, "Call me ’dad’ and let me hear it."

Isabella Weaver just swallowed the soup, then choked and coughed at his words!

Here he goes again?!

Harry Hunter gently pat her back, his tone indifferent: "You’re happy calling ’dad’, aren’t you? So excited you’ve turned red."

Isabella Weaver: "..."

Isn’t this because I’m choking?!

"Otherwise, calling ’big brother’ works too."

Isabella Weaver shut her mouth, looking at him with shock.

"I noticed you pronounce ’cousin’ when calling Alexander Parker so smoothly, why not call me?"

Isabella Weaver was caught between laughter and tears: "He’s my actual cousin!"