"..." Annabelle Linton was truly speechless this time.
But she had to keep up the act. "As long as you like it, that's all that matters. It makes me feel a little less guilty. But... to be honest, this porridge is exhausting to make. I'm never cooking it again."
Leona Grant's gaze turned icy as he stared at Annabelle Linton. "Never cooking it again? Annabelle Linton, do you think you're the one who gets to make that decision?"
Annabelle Linton looked at him without saying a word.
"I've decided!"
Annabelle Linton crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow, and replied coolly, "Go on."
"From now on, while you're taking care of me until I've fully recovered, I want to eat the porridge made by you—and *only* you, Annabelle Linton! For breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Understand?"
'Three meals a day, five dollars a meal... that's fifteen dollars a day...'
'The lady at the stall will be thanking me for this, won't she?'
Annabelle Linton put on a troubled expression. "Well..."
