CHAPTER 152: CHAPTER 152: CALL THE MANIAC OVER

Amelia Shaw’s expression was somber. Hearing footsteps, she immediately looked up.

"Thomas Shannon, you’re back?"

The sweetest smile bloomed on her face in an instant. Amelia Shaw rose and went to greet him.

Thomas Shannon unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, responded tepidly, and bypassed her to sit down on the sofa.

Harry suddenly appeared from somewhere, bounding into Thomas Shannon’s embrace.

Tilting his furry little head, he shook it. "MEOW."

As if seeking praise.

"HA HA." Thomas Shannon chuckled softly and generously patted the little hero’s head as a reward.

His slender fingers toyed with the small bell hanging from its neck.

His gaze gradually deepened.

Harry wagged his tail, curled up in his master’s embrace, and lazily enjoyed being petted.

Suddenly, a clattering din erupted from the kitchen.

The servants all held their breath, hardly daring to exhale.

Thomas Shannon frowned. "What’s going on?"

"Young Master, I’ll go and check." Charlie River quickly headed towards the kitchen.

Amelia Shaw leaned over, poured a cup of tea, and offered it to Thomas Shannon with both hands. "Thomas Shannon, the maniac is in there..."

"I know."

He knows the maniac can’t cook, and he’s still letting her? Does he really intend to eat what the maniac cooked?

Amelia Shaw bit her lower lip, her expression aggrieved and pitiful. "Thomas Shannon, the food cooked by the maniac... is it even edible?"

Thomas Shannon’s dark eyes locked onto her. "What are you trying to say?"

"I’m worried about you..."

Before she could finish, Charlie River interrupted her, emerging from the kitchen. "Young Master, the maniac says the meal will be ready in five minutes."

Charlie River’s expression was truly indescribable.

Heaven knows how he’d managed to walk out of the kitchen so calmly. Inside, it was a disaster scene.

The entire kitchen had become the maniac’s personal battlefield.

It was just short of being bombed flat.

"Hmm." Cradling Harry, Thomas Shannon gave a subtle nod.

He rose and strode with his long legs towards the Restaurant.

Unwilling to accept this, Amelia Shaw put down her tea cup, rose, and followed him.

Sophie Sullivan took off her apron, tossed it aside, and exhaled deeply. "Alright, bring out all the dishes."

Chief Chef: "..."

Servant: "..."

Sophie Sullivan turned her head to look at them, still motionless. Frowning, her voice turned cold, "What are you all standing around for? Waiting for me to do it myself?"

A servant hesitated, not daring to step forward. "Maniac, are you sure we don’t need to remake these? This... stuff... is it edible?"

Could those charred black, unrecognizable things really be eaten?

Sophie Sullivan was unconcerned. She turned on the faucet and began to meticulously wash her hands, then said, "Whether it’s edible or not, won’t we find out in a bit? Thomas Shannon hasn’t even said anything yet, so what are you blabbering about?"

At the long dining table in the Restaurant, large enough to seat twenty to thirty people, Thomas Shannon sat at the head.

Amelia Shaw sat beside him. Servants entered the Restaurant in an orderly fashion, placing the freshly prepared dishes on the table one by one.

Before the silver lids could be lifted, Thomas Shannon raised a hand, stopping the servant. "Call the maniac over."

"Yes, Young Master." The servant bowed, retreated, and went to the kitchen to call the maniac.

Sophie Sullivan was summoned to the Restaurant. Somewhat annoyed, she stopped while still a considerable distance from Thomas Shannon. "Young Master, what do you need me for?"

"Are these dishes all your doing?"

Sophie Sullivan looked a little smug. "Absolutely genuine."