CHAPTER 73: CHAPTER 73: WHAT DOES SHE HAVE TO FEEL GUILTY ABOUT?

Ding dong!

The doorbell rang.

Thinking Adrian Lockwood had returned, Serena Sinclair opened the door with a face still bearing suppressed anger.

She was met with the lazy gaze of Wyatt Hawthorne.

Four eyes met, and both of them were momentarily stunned.

"You..."

"Sis..."

Speaking simultaneously, Wyatt’s smile faded, his brows and eyes grew cold, "What’s wrong with you?"

"Oh, it’s nothing..."

Serena breathed a sigh of relief and stepped aside, "Are you done with work?"

"Hmm."

Wyatt responded, his gaze suspicious as he entered the room.

Almost instantly, a hint of something unusual caught his attention.

A faint scent of tobacco.

It quickly vanished.

He smelled closely again, but it was gone.

Serena didn’t smoke.

The driver dropping off the cat couldn’t have left a smoke smell during a brief stay.

Which means...

"Did someone visit?"

"No..."

Taking the cup of water Serena handed him, Wyatt glanced back and paused.

A pink crayon lay in the corner of the carpet.

At the edge of the sofa’s throw blanket, a corner of red was exposed.

Wyatt’s eyes flickered, and he stepped forward to pull out the piece of red.

His eyebrows lightly raised, "Adrian Lockwood came by?"

???

Serena, who was adjusting the direction of the cat tree in the corner, turned her head, "How did you know?"

Wyatt lifted the red booklet in his hand.

Serena stepped forward to take it.

The property deed for the apartment in East City.

The name had already been changed to hers.

From entering to leaving, in just over ten minutes, Adrian hadn’t mentioned it to her.

He had just sneakily left it behind.

Looking up again, she saw Wyatt’s face with an expression accusing, "Sis, you actually lied to me."

Serena chuckled, "I didn’t lie to you. Because they don’t really count as visitors."

Them.

"Was Miles here too?"

In his mind was the image of Miles Lockwood clinging to Serena’s leg, tearfully saying, "Mom, I miss you so much, please come home with me."

Wyatt squinted his eyes, his gaze turning dangerous, "What were they doing here?"

"Kindergarten’s parent-child homework."

Serena said as she added cat food and water, then opened a can of cat food.

The favorite cat food was today not enticing at all.

The cat 2S confidently strutted, tail in the air, went from the master bedroom to the guest bedroom, then took a glance at the empty study door.

Then, with a light bounce, landed on the sofa and adopted a seductive pose to lick its fur.

Stress response?

Not a chance!

Look at the house filled with signs of life.

Then look at the cat’s relaxed expression.

Wyatt stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, feeling like everything was off.

Today, it’s under the guise of parent-child homework.

What about tomorrow?

Would they just keep coming casually?

"How’s the packing going?"

Wyatt made a call, even his voice was fiercely aggressive.

The butler on the other end seemed worried sick, "Almost... But young master, can you get used to living in such a small house?"

"Can’t get used to it? Then find a way to get used to it!!!"

Wyatt hung up the phone angrily.

Looking back, he saw Serena’s smiling face peeking out from behind the fridge door, "Wyatt, what do you want for dinner?"

Wyatt’s eyes paused slightly.

Was it from that teasing "Wyatt, time to eat"?

Or, was it from when he called her sis?

She seemed to be more at ease, more carefree.

No longer like before, easily embarrassed or apologetic for troubling him.

Wyatt stepped forward.

The breath caught in his heart, with each step he took.

One breath, two breaths, three four breaths...

It dissipated entirely.

"What do we have?"

Standing behind Serena, Wyatt lowered his gaze at the fridge, then turned and asked Serena, "Are you willing to cook? If not, should we eat out?"

"It’s just cooking a meal, why would I be unwilling to do?"

Serena didn’t know why she was tense.

Her heartbeat inexplicably sped up.

Before her was the fridge, and she could still feel the brush of his suit hem on her back.

No big steps needed.

If she just leans back a little, she might rest against his chest.

Serena Sinclair dared not move and leaned forward slightly, busy picking through the vegetables as she asked, "Would you like stir-fried vegetables with rice, or cold salad noodle soup?"

"Cold salad noodle soup."

Wyatt Hawthorne made his choice and slowly turned around.

His gaze fell on the soda can shelf on the refrigerator door, "Is this... what you drank?"

"... Last Monday, the two of us drank it while having hot pot."

Serena quickly answered, then closed the refrigerator door with a snap.

When she looked back, Wyatt had already strolled out of the kitchen.

Among the sound of running water, Serena mumbled as she washed the vegetables.

She was already an adult.

Not to mention just a can of beer, even red, white, or foreign liquor would be justifiable, right?

Especially since it’s at home.

What’s there to feel guilty about?

Upon turning back again, she saw Wyatt engrossed in reading the professional book she left on the sofa.

In the gradually dispersing sunset outside, the lazy leaning silhouette was deeply handsome beyond measure.

Serena exhaled and focused on cooking dinner.

Dinner was simple.

Cold cucumber salad.

Spicy shredded chicken.

Plus, a big bowl of chicken broth noodles.

Serena absolutely loved this kind of soupy noodle dish; one bowl down, and all her organs felt comfortable.

But when she brought it to the dining table and saw Wyatt sauntering over, she suddenly became nervous.

Floor-to-ceiling windows of a high-end apartment.

Wyatt in a chic suit.

Even the cat climbing frame in the corner looked incredibly upscale.

The bowl of soup noodles she was holding seemed like scallions mixed with tofu in a five-star restaurant.

Simple yet jarring.

"What’s wrong?"

Wyatt took the bowl from Serena’s hand and placed it on the dining table, glancing at her hand.

Seeing it wasn’t red from heat, he looked bewildered, "Who fixed you here?"

"Oh, it’s nothing..."

Serena came to her senses, handed him the chopsticks, and sat down.

Her peripheral gaze intentionally or unintentionally landed on Wyatt’s face.

Wyatt looked amazed, as if eating such noodle soup for the first time.

First, he sipped the soup, raising his eyebrows somewhat surprisingly.

Then he scooped up the noodle pieces from the bowl, eating them one mouthful after another.

He didn’t seem to hate or resist it.

Serena’s heart just settled back down when she heard Wyatt’s phone ring.

"Hello?"

Wyatt’s face turned serious, "What’s wrong with the chef? ... Alright, I understand!"

He hung up, put down his chopsticks, and looked out the window into the darkness, frowning slightly.

"What’s the matter?"

Serena asked cautiously.

Wyatt shook his head, indicating it was nothing, "The villa over there is being cleaned, and the chef is hospitalized due to a cat hair allergy."

"Ah?"

In her mind was the scene of cat hair flying everywhere at Hillcrest Villa, with the allergic chef sneezing repeatedly and tearing up miserably.

Serena was nervous, "Is it serious?"

"Not too bad. It’s just... the consequences are pretty severe."

Wyatt said.

Consequences?

What consequences?

Lined up with Serena’s confused look, Wyatt sighed softly, "I can only eat the food he cooks."

Thinking of those four bowls of varied pork congee with century eggs.

He also recalled Julian Rivera sighing deeply after urging the chef in helplessness.

Serena looked sympathetic, as if she had already seen Wyatt’s tragic expression unable to swallow food.

Just now, as he joyfully ate one spoonful after another, the cheerful little golden retriever transformed into a sorrowful Shiba Inu with drooping eyebrows.

Serena hesitated to speak, "How about... from now on, you have dinner at my place?"

???

"Is that okay?"

Wyatt paused; before Serena could hesitate, his downtrodden eyes instantly brightened, "Sister, you’re so nice!"

Something felt off.

But she couldn’t quite figure out what it was until they finished eating.

When her phone rang, Serena had just sent Wyatt out the door.

Julian Rivera had texted, [Sis, didn’t you say you would cook a big meal for me someday? You haven’t forgotten, have you?]

Serena froze, too rushed to reply to Julian, turning around to run out the door.

The elevator doors had just closed but opened again.

Wyatt looked up.

Serena appeared outside the door, "I promised to cook for Young Master Rivera. How about tomorrow? Are you free tomorrow?"

"Sure."

Wyatt nodded.

Serena released her hand, "Then drive safely."

She could hear her footsteps running back.

The sound of her door closing and the buzzing of the password lock.

Wyatt closed the elevator door and pressed the button for the 20th floor.

The elevator went all the way up.