Chapter 60

In the Riverside Villa, Isabella curled up on her soft ivory sofa, scrolling through videos. She sneezed, rubbed her nose, and glanced toward the window. "Strange," she wondered. "The window's closed; why am I sneezing?" Shaking her head, she returned to her phone. She was watching a short drama video—a scene where a boyfriend was upset because his girlfriend wouldn't sit in the front passenger seat. Large text on the screen read: [Girlfriend's Exclusive Spot].

Isabella furrowed her brow. "The other night, after leaving the bar, I sat in the back seat," she mused. "Samuel's mood shifted. I didn't know about this…" She realized she'd been completely unaware of his preference. "So, that's why he was upset? Not just because I danced, but because I didn't sit in the front? That's…pretty childish," she thought, scratching her head. Feeling unsure, she added, "I promised Samuel I'd be a good Mrs. Howerton…and now it turns out I didn't even know something this simple. Guess I'm not doing a great job as his wife."

She thought, Not knowing was one thing, but now that I do, I have to make up for it, right? Glancing at the time on her phone, her eyes lit up. Tucking the phone into her pocket, she stood. I'll make it up to him, she thought. Take him lunch. Do something a good wife would do.

With that decision made, Isabella changed clothes and headed downstairs. In the kitchen, Megan was preparing lunch when Isabella walked in. Megan immediately looked up, concern filling her voice. "Mrs. Howerton, what are you doing here? The kitchen's filled with smoke. You should leave…" She worried Isabella couldn't handle the kitchen fumes.

But Isabella had no intention of leaving. Instead, she asked curiously, "Megan, do you know what Samuel likes to eat?" Though married for some time, Isabella realized she knew very little about Samuel's preferences. Megan paused, surprised. Then a warm smile spread across her face. "Are you planning to bring Samuel lunch?" Her heart swelled with happiness at the thought of their improving relationship.

Isabella shook her head. "Not just that," she said, pausing. "I want to cook it myself." Ordering takeout felt too impersonal. After all, that's something money can easily buy.

Megan was even more surprised but quickly recovered, listing Samuel's favorite dishes. Isabella nodded attentively, committing each one to memory. Megan rambled on, and Isabella jotted everything down. Concerned Isabella might not know her way around the kitchen, Megan offered, "Are you sure you don't need my help?" She wanted to help, sparing Isabella any awkwardness.

But Isabella shook her head. "No, Megan. You can go about your own business." Megan smiled and nodded, though she had no intention of leaving Isabella alone. What if she hurts herself? Samuel would be devastated, she thought.

Chapter 60

"I don't have anything urgent to do," Megan said gently. "I'll stay and help."

Isabella didn't refuse. "Alright then." She got to work, pulling ingredients from the fridge, washing vegetables, and prepping the dishes. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of stir-fried vegetables and braised meats. Megan watched in awe as Isabella moved gracefully, her knife skills sharp and precise. Isabella can cook! Megan thought, marveling at the delicious smell. It must taste great! "You're amazing, Mrs. Howerton!" Megan exclaimed, her eyes wide with admiration.

Isabella smiled softly. "Not too bad," she replied quietly. Back when her mother was alive, Isabella had never stepped foot in the kitchen. Her mother had always said, "A girl's hands aren't meant for the stove. Our Bella will be a beautiful princess." But after her mother passed, and Molly married into the Stout family, those princess-like days were gone. Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry—Isabella had to do it all. Otherwise, Molly would find ways to make my life miserable, Isabella thought, her heart heavy with memories she tried hard to bury. She lowered her eyes, keeping these things hidden.

She finished packing Samuel's lunch, leaving the rest at home. Then, with a determined look, she walked out the door. Megan watched from the doorway as Isabella drove off, a smile spreading across her face. "Samuel's in for a treat today."

At a traffic light, Isabella's car came to a stop. She glanced at the lunchbox in the passenger seat and smiled. Just then, her phone buzzed. The caller ID flashed: [George].

She answered, "Another job?"

George, sprawled lazily in his chair with his legs up on his desk, said with a teasing lilt, "It's not exactly news. They've already locked in the date for the variety show—it's three days from now. Think you can fit it into your schedule?" Even through the phone, Isabella sensed his good mood.

She blinked in surprise. "That soon?" she asked. I thought this would take much longer to finalize, she mused.

George swung his legs down, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Of course. They really wanted you on the show. Now that they've finally got your agreement, they're fast-tracking everything. How could they not?" Probably worried I might change my mind. And if I did, who knew when they might get another chance to invite me? Isabella thought, amused.

Isabella nodded. "Alright, no problem on my end. Just send me the schedule when you've got it finalized. If there's nothing else, I'll hang up now." The traffic light turned green, and her car started moving. "Just two more intersections, and I'll be at Samuel's company."

George stood up. "I'll send the finalized schedule later. Oh, and…" He paused. His voice took on a mischievous tone. "Hey, got any new cars recently? How about letting me take one for a spin?"

Isabella was speechless. Does he think I'm some kind of car enthusiast? she wondered, incredulous. "No," she replied tersely.

George deflated, slumping back into his chair with a heavy sigh. "Alright, alright. You go and take care of your stuff. I'll send the schedule later." He'd thought, seeing her fancy car, that she'd caught the car bug. Guess I was wrong, he realized.

Isabella responded briefly, "Okay, I'll leave the rest of the arrangements to you." George was handling all the logistics, and though Isabella wasn't involved in the details, she knew it was a hassle.

A grin spread across George's face. With a playful glint in his eye, he teased, "Don't say it's a hassle—unless, of course, you're offering to let me take your car out for a spin?"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "What? Can't hear you. Bad signal. Bye."

"What? Did she seriously hang up on me?" George stared at the phone in disbelief before jumping to his feet and yelling. "Damn! When did this girl get so cheeky?" She used to be a goddess in my eyes, he thought, astonished. But now…Well, it seems there's no going back.

In front of the towering Howerton Group skyscraper, Isabella parked her car, grabbed the lunchbox, and headed toward the grand entrance. The lobby was vast, with a huge crystal chandelier casting brilliant light. Even in broad daylight, it glittered magnificently. The decor was European-style, with grand stone pillars wrapped in opulent gold, exuding prestige. At the front of the lobby stood a large reception desk with several pots of expensive clivia flowers atop the pristine white marble.

Isabella approached the desk, politely asking, "Excuse me, could you tell me which floor the CEO's office is on?" She glanced around but didn't see any directional signs.

The busy receptionist looked up, momentarily taken aback by Isabella's appearance, but quickly hid her surprise. With a polite yet distant smile, the receptionist asked, "Do you have an appointment?"

Isabella blinked, realizing she had forgotten. She shook her head honestly. "No, no appointment. I'm just here to drop off some food."

The receptionist, Wendy, followed Isabella's gaze to the lunchbox. Her face darkened immediately. So I was right. This woman is here trying to get close to the CEO! she thought. Her dislike was evident, and her tone grew colder. "I'm sorry, but without an appointment, you're not allowed in." Women like this show up every day, Wendy thought bitterly. Can't they come up with a less obvious way to get close to the boss? They always make my job harder!

Isabella felt the receptionist's hostility and frowned slightly. "I know your CEO. I'm just here to drop off some food and leave, nothing more," she explained patiently, pulling out her phone to call Samuel. She was following the rules; she wasn't making a scene. But just as she took out her phone, before she could dial, she heard a loud bang.

(The final "SEND GIFT COMMENT 0" appears to be extraneous and unrelated to the narrative.)