Chapter 1349:
She drew a slow breath, raised her head, and kept her expression perfectly calm. “Alright.”
She went downstairs to the kitchen, rolled up her sleeves, and began helping carry out the dishes.
The Kennedy dining room was vast, anchored by a long table large enough to seat twenty. By then, Meagan and the returning guests were already seated, while out in the garden, Gill was chatting with Deandre.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Gill could be seen tilting her face toward the man beside her, her expression soft and unhurried. No one could hear their conversation, yet the guests inside seemed perfectly entertained simply watching the scene unfold.
“Gill’s been around Deandre for quite some time. She’s the only woman who’s managed to get close to that circle. Looks like things might actually go somewhere.”
“Yeah. Even from a distance, they look good together.”
𝗥𝖾аd 𝗈ո 𝗮ոу 𝗱𝘦𝘃𝘪се 𝘰𝘯 gа𝗹𝗇𝘰v𝖾𝗅𝘴.𝖼𝗼𝘮
Tray in hand, Melany came out of the kitchen and began setting each dish onto the table. She caught a fragment of their remarks, cast a brief glance outside, then looked away and continued with her work.
She wore a borrowed apron, her hair loosely secured with a band—a stark contrast to the refined atmosphere of the dining room. Low murmurs spread across the table as more eyes drifted toward her.
“That’s her?” a man who hadn’t been present earlier asked in a hushed tone.
“Yeah,” the guest beside him said with a faint smirk. “She came this morning to take Meagan’s measurements. Still hasn’t left—now she’s handling whatever Meagan throws at her.”
“Tsk. Meagan really does treat people like servants.”
“Well, she must want the job. It’s a major client, after all. Fair enough. A little spill of money from Meagan would be enough for her to live on for years.”
Melany gave no reaction, continuing her work as though she hadn’t heard a word.
Deandre stepped inside, and the moment he saw her wearing a maid’s apron, his eyes tightened with restrained anger.
Melany acted as though he wasn’t there, turning calmly to retrieve the final dish.
“Stop.”
His voice was quiet, almost steady—yet it instantly silenced the entire table.
Melany stopped where she was, without turning around.
Deandre set the unlit cigarette in his hand onto the table. He was dressed in a dark gray shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, the sharp, clean lines of his wrists exposed. His gaze moved from Melany’s back to Meagan, then swept slowly across the rest of the room. His expression remained composed, yet it sent a quiet chill through everyone present.
Gill’s smile stiffened. “Sorry, Deandre… I didn’t realize.”
“Didn’t realize what? Didn’t you tell your mother that the seamstress she mentioned is my friend?” His voice stayed level, but that measured, unhurried tone slowly drained the color from Gill’s face.
Around the table, one person quietly set down their fork, another raised a glass of water to their lips, and someone else dropped their gaze to their phone. Not a single person spoke.
.
.
.