Chapter 467:
The chef blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.” Losing his patience, the butler walked over and lifted the lid himself. The pot was nearly empty, and the side dishes were gone. His face fell. “Where’s the rest?”
“Perla took it,” said the chef, sounding unsure. “Said she was bringing it to Mr. Morgan.”
The butler narrowed his eyes. “Perla?”
“She’s been helping out here lately,” explained the chef. “When she heard he was sick, she insisted on bringing him food. I told her he wasn’t in the mood to eat, but she wouldn’t listen.”
Rylie said plainly, “If she’s already with him, I’ll just bring the medicine.”
The butler, ever perceptive, instantly sensed trouble brewing. As Rylie walked toward the stairs and headed up to the master bedroom, he watched her go. He wanted to stop her, but that would only make things worse. If he stepped in now, she’d know that something was being hidden. But if he let her go, she’d most likely find Zaylee there.
That girl had a long list of shameless stunts, yet under Sean’s protection, no one ever held her accountable.
Inside the master bedroom, the curtains were drawn tight, barely letting any light through. Only a dim lamp glowed beside the bed.
Brad sat slumped against the headboard. His forehead was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed from the fever. Lips pressed into a line, he wore an eye mask over his face. He heard the door creak open and didn’t bother looking. He assumed it was the butler again. “I said leave me alone. Don’t come—”
Instead of the butler’s voice, footsteps echoed softly across the floor. Dishes clinked together, and the smell of food drifted toward the bed.
Brad’s brows pulled tight. He reached up and tugged off his eye mask. The moment he saw who it was, his eyes turned sharp. “Who let you in?”
Zaylee was already beside the bed, kneeling with a bowl of soup in her hands. Her expression seemed pitiful, but the sweetness in her smile felt forced. She leaned closer, nearly brushing his arm.
“Brad, you haven’t eaten or drunk all day. How can your body handle this? Let me help you drink this soup. The chef made it light on purpose.”
As she spoke, she raised the spoon to his lips, her other hand inching toward him.
Just as her fingertips were about to touch Brad’s skin…
“Zaylee.” His voice came out rough, but it sliced through the room like cold steel. He didn’t look at the soup. His focus stayed fixed on her eyes. “I’ll say this for the last time. You’re only here because of my grandfather. To me, you’re like a sister. Nothing else.”
Her hand stopped in the air. The smile vanished. Her skin paled.
“I just wanted to thank you for what you did at school. That’s all. I didn’t mean anything else.” She believed the moment he carried her meant something. It had sparked a new hope inside her.
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