Chapter 307

Calliope was used to the Jewell family’s antics, but Ulysses’ words still shocked her.

“Why should I care about her?” she asked incredulously. “I barely know her, and it’s not like she’s ever done anything nice for me.”

With a smirk, she added, “If you care so much about her, why don’t you clean up the mess yourself? What’s it got to do with me?”

Ulysses glared at her, muttering something under his breath that was too quiet to catch.

“I hope you all heard what my wife said,” Silas said smoothly as the group tried to ignore the puddle left behind by Lisette.

His words stopped them in their tracks, and with grim expressions, they begrudgingly set to cleaning up the mess before making a hasty, disheveled exit from the Myers Manor.

Watching them leave, one more haggard than the last, Silas turned to Calliope, concern etched on his handsome features.

“Is this how they’ve treated you?” he asked softly.

Calliope shrugged nonchalantly. “Pretty much. But it’s nothing.”

There had been worse times, but she had grown accustomed to it. Once, she might have cared, but now she had stopped considering them as family. It made things a lot easier.

Silas searched for words of comfort but was at a loss. He wanted to help her, though he knew she preferred to handle her family matters alone. Instead, he pulled her into a gentle embrace.

“How about something to eat?” he suggested, trying to lift the mood. “Can I make you something?”

Calliope raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You cook?”

She couldn’t help but be amused that Mr. Myers, the formidable figurehead of the Myers Group, knew his way around a kitchen.

Silas chuckled and playfully tapped her nose. “There’s a lot I can do. You’ll see.”

“Mr. Myers, the master chef? Now that’s impressive,” Calliope teased with a smile.

Silas stood, slipping off his jacket and donning an apron, transforming into the image of a perfect domestic partner. It was a charming contrast to his powerful corporate persona, the kind of man who commanded respect with just a look but could also whip up a meal at home.

Calliope, an excellent cook herself, watched his adept movements with curiosity. He was skilled, chopping and dicing like a pro, all while sneaking affectionate glances her way.

Before long, Silas whipped up two pasta dishes, rich with vegetables and hearty bits of sausage.

“Here, try my pasta!” he said, setting the plates on the table.

Having skipped dinner, Calliope was genuinely hungry. The aroma was mouthwatering, making her stomach rumble in anticipation.

“I didn’t make too much since it’s late,” Silas explained, gently ruffling her hair. “Just enough to keep you from going to bed hungry.”

“Yeah, this is perfect,” Calliope replied, eyeing the pasta and the man who’d prepared it. “Why are you so good to me?”

“Do I need a reason?” Silas asked, his expression earnest. “You’re my wife. Who else would I be good to?”