Chapter 107: Nice Straw You Have There

The audience, excited, began donating generously. The chatroom exploded with messages and donations. Sean ate slowly, frowning occasionally. He'd never eaten or cooked octopus tentacles before, but he was a good cook. He found the food palatable, though not as good as his usual seafood. He suspected it was over-seasoned.

Abigail noticed his frown. "That's barbecue," she explained. "Seasoning is key. It's not as good as authentic seafood, but many people like it. It's stress-relieving."

Sean flipped the skewers. "Do you like barbecue, then?" he asked calmly.

Abigail paused. "It's alright."

Sean looked down. "What kind of food do you prefer? I'll make some for you," he offered.

A strange feeling welled up in Abigail's heart, but the memory of Sean's actions for Joan quelled it. "Anything's fine," she said coolly. "Just keep doing what you're doing."

Sean looked at her, but said nothing. They worked silently together, Abigail sprinkling seasoning on the barbecued food before placing it on the table. It looked delicious, but Abigail knew their actions were a performance—a de-escalation tactic.

He was doing it for Joan; she, for the prize money and Victor. They were acting in love for the cameras, assuaging their mutual guilt and attempting to portray a healthy relationship. However, Abigail realized there was no love between them, never had been. If not for Joan's debut, he wouldn't have agreed to participate in the show, let alone act with her.

Abigail, noticing things were awkward between herself and Sean, asked, "How's Miss Palmer's wound?"

"It's nothing. It'll heal tomorrow," Sean replied.

Abigail grunted. Sean frowned, wondering why she'd brought Joan up. Have I not done enough? Is she still mad? Feeling parched and annoyed, he said, "Get me a bottle of soda."

Abigail turned and retrieved a bottle, inserting a straw. Seeing this, Sean looked at her, placed the kebabs on the plate beside him, and took her hand, sucking on the straw and drinking the soda.

Abigail, now free, picked up plates and served the food. Each table had food. Sean approached the longest table, soda in hand. Abigail placed a kebab before him.

He sat and sipped his soda. Abigail watched, finding the scene awkward. She sat beside Luna, who huddled closer. "Feeling hot? I'll get you something cold."

"I'm parched," Abigail replied, her lips dry from serving food without time to drink.

Luna grabbed a glass of juice with ice, which Abigail immediately drank. She picked up a kebab. "Nice afternoon tea. The most relaxed session so far," she commented.

Luna leaned back, smiling. "You're relaxed, but someone else isn't. Cut her own hand and got nothing for it."

Abigail looked at Joan. "Let's not talk about it," she said coolly. "It's a killjoy."

Luna whispered, "Still mad at Mr. Graham? He's been nice all afternoon."

"He'll do anything for Joan," Abigail said coolly.

Luna choked. "So annoying," she mumbled, eating a kebab.

Abigail smiled. "Don't worry about it. Just live your life." She no longer cared; Sean's kindness was solely for Joan.

Sean, in his exclusive seat, watched Abigail from afar, resting his chin on his hand and sipping his soda. He noticed her closeness to Luna and realized their relationship extended beyond boss and assistant.

Kevin approached, chuckling. An impatient Sean finally looked up. Kevin chuckled again. "Nice straw you have there."