Chapter 50

When Kimberly emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray with two large bowls, Noelle's eyes lit up with excitement. Vincent, on the other hand, wondered if he should call the family doctor preemptively. Kimberly placed the tray between Noelle and Vincent with a proud smile.

"Ta-da! Freshly made egg pasta is ready!"

"Wow." Noelle leaned forward eagerly to peek at the bowl, only to be greeted by a scene straight out of a culinary nightmare. The egg pasta was indescribable. The eggs were overcooked to the point of being charred and bitter. The pan, unwashed after frying the eggs, had left burnt black bits that floated ominously in the soup. The pasta itself was overboiled, mushy, and dotted with the same blackened residue. As for the soup, it was more of an oil slick, with black specks swimming on the surface. Just looking at it felt like the oil was already coating her throat.

"Noelle, Vincent, dig in while it's hot!" Kimberly said cheerfully.

Vincent was speechless. He had long known his wife's cooking skills were apocalyptic, but seeing it again still made him want to cry. Would eating this really not cause food poisoning? he thought.

"Darling," Vincent asked hesitantly, "are you sure this is safe to eat?"

Kimberly gave him an unimpressed look. "Of course! I've already tasted it. It doesn't look great, but it tastes fine."

Vincent sighed internally. Liar. When has it ever tasted fine? He knew Kimberly had a severe self-cooking filter. No matter how bad it actually tasted, she would convince herself it was decent. But this time, her filter seemed to be on maximum, completely ignoring reality.

"What's with that expression? You don't believe me?" Kimberly frowned, displeased.

"It's not that. I just think this might not be edible," Vincent tried to wriggle out of it. But before he could finish, Noelle had already picked up her knife and fork and started eating. "Noelle…"

Vincent was stunned. He understood Noelle was trying to earn favor by eating her mom's cooking, but being able to stomach this—that took real guts.

Kimberly's eyes, however, sparkled with delight. She looked at Noelle like a kindred spirit.

"Noelle!"

"Hmm?" Noticing both her parents staring at her, Noelle swallowed a mouthful of pasta and asked, "Mom, Dad, what's wrong?"

Vincent, looking slightly pale, asked cautiously, "Noelle, how does it taste?"

Kimberly, full of anticipation, chimed in, "Isn't it delicious, Noelle?"

Noelle slurped another bite, swallowed, and blinked at her parents. "Honestly…" Vincent leaned in. Kimberly asked eagerly, "Is it good?"

In a measured tone, Noelle said matter-of-factly, "It's terrible."

Vincent and Kimberly were speechless.

Noelle continued her critique unabated. "The eggs are charred and bitter, the pasta's overcooked and mushy, the soup is nothing but oil, and it's full of burnt residue. The texture's just awful."

Vincent frowned. Noelle, you… Did she not know how to be tactful? While everything she said was true, her bluntness left Vincent feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Kimberly, meanwhile, looked utterly deflated. She quietly hid her oil-splattered, burned hand behind her back and forced a smile. "I see… It's really that bad! Sorry, Noelle. I didn't do a good job this time." Maybe you should…

Before she could finish, she watched in astonishment as Noelle ate the last bite of pasta and even drank all the soup.

Kimberly was utterly baffled. Didn't she just say it was awful? Why did she finish the whole thing? Kimberly thought.

Yeah, the pasta was terrible…" Noelle wiped her oily mouth, then turned to Kimberly with a bright, sunny smile. "But since you made it with love, I had to finish it. Also, Mom, you need to run cold water over your hand and put some ointment on it quickly, or it'll hurt a lot later."

"What! Kimberly, your hand got burned?" Hearing this, Vincent immediately turned to his wife in concern.

"It's nothing, really," Kimberly said quickly, waving him off. But her injured hand betrayed her, revealing several small red marks and even a few blisters on her palm and wrist.

"My God, how did it get this bad?" Vincent exclaimed, grabbing her hand. "We need to treat this right away!"

"It's fine." Kimberly dismissed her own injury, instead focusing on Noelle. Looking at her daughter's radiant smile, her eyes suddenly grew misty, and a warm feeling spread through her heart.

"Noelle, you…" She always thought Noelle was a silly, carefree child. Yet, moments like this showed how deeply thoughtful and endearing she could be. Kimberly wasn't usually an emotional person, but now, she felt incredibly touched.

Noelle kept smiling and asked, "Mom, do you enjoy making pasta?"

"Making pasta?" Kimberly blinked, then glanced at Vincent before nodding. "Yes, I do."

From a young age, Kimberly had been interested in cooking. But as a proper young lady from an aristocratic family, cooking wasn't deemed appropriate. Her family forbade her from pursuing it. Everything she wanted to eat was prepared by the household chefs. Compared to them, Kimberly's skills were, unsurprisingly, subpar. One time, she managed to make pasta for the family, only for everyone to end up nearly hospitalized. After that, she was banned from the kitchen entirely. Tonight was a rare exception. With most people away, and her daughter specifically asking for her cooking, Kimberly had finally gotten the chance to cook again.

"If you like making pasta, I can teach you," Noelle said with a twinkle in her eye.

"You'll teach me?" Kimberly was surprised.

"Yup!" Noelle nodded proudly. "I've even got a chef's certification. A master-level one!"

"A master-level certification? Really?" Kimberly was stunned. Master chefs were considered the pinnacle of culinary achievement. She thought her daughter only knew how to eat, yet here she was, claiming to…

"You don't believe me? I'll show you right now!" Noelle rolled up her sleeves, ready to spring into action.

Vincent quickly intervened. "Uh, maybe not tonight; it's already late." Having experienced Kimberly's cooking, Vincent was understandably wary. If Noelle had inherited even a fraction of her mother's culinary skills, it could spell disaster.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll just make some simple egg-fried pasta. It won't take long."

"Well…" Vincent hesitated, but Kimberly, who was clearly intrigued, urged him, "Vincent, let her try. It's just egg-fried pasta; it won't take long." Kimberly was visibly excited at the prospect of her daughter cooking. Seeing her enthusiasm, Vincent reluctantly nodded.

"Alright, go ahead."

This time, all three of them went into the kitchen together. Kimberly wanted to see if Noelle really knew how to cook, while Vincent was there to supervise and intervene if needed.

But when Noelle picked up two eggs…