Chapter 178

“Jonathan, let go of me!” Cynthia struggled, but her restrained ankle prevented movement. She thought, “How did Jonathan, who can’t even fight, become so strong?”

She was slightly scalded by a broth splash—nothing serious.

Jonathan stared at her foot, finally sighing in relief, but he didn't immediately release her. “If you’re fine, why were you yelling?”

Everyone had heard the piercing scream. Cynthia frowned. “It wasn’t me; it was Jessie.”

Jessie’s heart-wrenching cries echoed. “Chicken cacciatore, oh no! What’s wrong? Don’t die! You haven’t even romanced my taste buds yet!”

Jonathan furrowed his brow and released Cynthia. She stood up, stepping back to create distance.

After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry.”

Jonathan looked at her calmly. “Sorry for what?”

Cynthia felt guilt and disappointment. “I ruined the chicken cacciatore you spent hours making.”

Jonathan had meticulously prepared it all day, carefully selecting ingredients and following an intricate process. He’d monitored the stove for hours to maintain the perfect temperature.

To say he’d poured his heart and soul into it was an understatement, yet her carelessness had ruined it. Cynthia knew she would have been furious if she’d been the one to mess up.

But Jonathan remained calm. “I can make it again tomorrow,” he said evenly. “But if you get hurt because of it, I might hate the dish forever.”

Cynthia was taken aback. His flatly delivered words hit her like a ton of bricks, despite his calm demeanor.

The live chat exploded:

[What???] [What’s going on here?] [I can’t believe it!] [No one’s saying anything? If no one speaks up, then I won’t either!] [I’m a blabbermouth, I can’t hold it in! I’ve been rooting for Mr. Bennett and Cynthia since the beginning, and now I can finally say it openly!] [These two bicker every time they meet, but don’t you think they’re like one of those love-hate couples?] [When Jonathan saw Cynthia get burned and instantly scooped her up, it truly made my heart skip a beat.] [Who can relate? Jonathan’s words feel like a confession!] [No way! What about our dear Preston?] [Am I the only one concerned about how stunning their kids would be with those looks?] [Isn’t this supposed to be a survival show? How did it suddenly turn into a dating show?] [The person above is mistaken, this is clearly “Master Chef.”]

The live room buzzed, and Cynthia felt her ears burning.

With a poker face, she said, “You’re crazy. Nobody should hate chicken cacciatore.”

Jonathan was speechless.

After that bombshell, Cynthia walked away.

The live chat continued:

[Is she allergic to romance or what?] [Did my newly shipped couple just break up?] [Yay! There’s still hope for you, dear Preston!]

Preston arrived, having just witnessed Jonathan picking up Cynthia, reminiscent of the king cobra incident. He’d never seen his uncle so worried. This was the second time on the island. Feeling down, he approached Cynthia, asking with concern, “Cynthia…”

Cynthia glared, causing him to hesitate. “Are you okay?”

Cynthia replied, “I’m fine.”

Preston and Cynthia walked toward the long table. Ethan was fixing a table leg, muttering, “It was fine a second ago. How did it break? That’s strange.”

Jessie was still upset about the chicken cacciatore. The pot was cracked, but not shattered; at least half remained. She carefully transferred the remnants to other cookware.

Nina’s face reddened with anger. “Alex, why did you do that? That was Jonathan’s hard-earned effort. What you did was unacceptable.”

Alex, with a smirk, maintained his innocence. His refined looks and charming eyes belied a mischievous smile.

Alex said, “Nina, I’m doing this for you. Don’t you hate Cynthia?”

Nina blushed, speechless, as if her deepest thoughts were revealed. Since learning Cynthia was Jonathan’s ex, she’d felt resistance and jealousy, but never intended harm. The spilled soup could have seriously injured Cynthia.

Alex, gently touching her hand, said, “Nina, I’m the only one who truly cares about you. Mr. Bennett and Cynthia have been playing you. I’m the only one you can trust.”

Nina pulled her hand away. “Alex, stop this. If you hurt someone again, I’ll tell everyone.”

She walked toward the long table. Alex raised an eyebrow, smirked, and followed.

Jessie had portioned the remaining chicken cacciatore into eight servings. Noticing Cynthia’s return, she offered it, saying, “It’s not much, but you can all taste Jonathan’s cooking.”

Preston eyed the bowls. “Jessie, why do you have so much in your bowl?” Jessie’s bowl was far larger than everyone else’s coconut bowls.

Jessie retorted, “That’s none of your business, kid.”

Preston, about to explode, stripped off his shirt. “You all treat me like a kid, but I’m 21! I’ve got an eight-pack. Ever seen a kid with an eight-pack?”

Everyone looked at shirtless Preston with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

Ethan patted Preston’s shoulder. “We adults usually aren’t this immature.”

Cynthia passed by, ignoring his abs. “Put your shirt back on. Kids catch colds easily.”

Jonathan strode over, his voice icy. “Preston! You’ve got three seconds to put your shirt back on!”