Leona Grant walked into the villa.
As soon as he stepped into the living room, the warm, delicious aroma of home cooking suddenly washed over him.
It was a familiar yet foreign scent, a sense of déjà vu.
Leona Grant casually loosened his tie, his gaze drifting unintentionally toward the kitchen, only to freeze in place—
In the kitchen, Annabelle Linton had just finished stir-frying a dish. Unsure what to make next, she was flipping through a cookbook.
She was wearing a white blouse with a bow at the collar and a black, high-waisted, asymmetrical A-line denim skirt. The outfit was both form-fitting and refreshing.
Annabelle had a wonderful figure—tall and slender, with striking curves. Her skin was fair, and her legs were long and slim, making them stand out against the black skirt.
At that moment, she was staring at the cookbook with a blank expression. Her long, curled lashes fluttered, casting a faint shadow on her face.
