Chapter 33

Oliver practically collapsed onto the plush couch in his living room, tossing a brown paper bag onto the kitchen island. The doorman had just delivered his dinner – the result of a quick call to his chef friend. Cooking wasn't exactly in Oliver's repertoire, and on busy days like this, Emily would take the initiative to arrange meals.

The soft glow of the penthouse lights bathed his exhausted form in a warm sheen. A glance at the clock made him wince – 9:00 PM already. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, fatigue etched on his face. Then, his eyes fell on the crumpled note still clutched in his hand.

It was from the brown paper bag. A handwritten message from his chef friend:

Made you a Grilled Filet Mignon and Truffle Pasta today, bro. You might be surprised since I heard Ms. Collins wasn't in today. But she called me to prepare dinne