This man fit Arabella Donovan's image of a master chef perfectly. He was in his early forties, with a square face, a slight paunch, and a warm, enthusiastic smile.
"Dad, Mom, Mr. Donovan. This must be Serena, right? She's so lovely. I'm your Uncle Raphael. Did you enjoy the food just now? Was it to your liking?"
"It was delicious! I've never eaten anything so good. You're amazing, Uncle."
"HAHAHAHA, if you like it, then eat up. If it's not enough, Uncle will make you more."
"Raphael, would you like to eat something too?" Madam Foster asked softly as her son sat down beside her.
Raphael Foster smiled and shook his head. "I ate before I came over. I'm not hungry right now."
Hearing this, Madam Foster let it go, nodding without saying anything more.
Arabella Donovan glanced at the two of them, a thoughtful look on her face.
After dinner, it was time to get down to business.
