Unexpected Guests

At night, in Platinum Palace’s villa No. 8, the huge living room was icy cold. The father and child sat across from each other at the dining table, matching in their icy expressions.

Alexander: “Eat your food.”

Little bun ignored him and pulled out his writing board. “The lady from that night… is she okay? I want to see her.”

Julian, looking disheveled, sighed. “Saviee, I already told you she’s fine. She’s doing okay.”

“Then I want to see her!” the little bun wrote relentlessly.

Alexander massaged his temples, stressed. “Julian, get me her address.”

“What? Why?” Julian asked, confused.

Alexander’s glare was enough to make Julian wish he could disappear. But he immediately sent Isabella’s exact address to his brother’s phone.

The moment Saviee saw his father putting on his jacket and picking up his car keys, he followed every step like a shadow.

Alexander bent down and picked up his son with a single glance at the little bun standing by his feet. “There won’t be a next time.”

The first thing Isabella did after returning home was take a long nap to recover her lost sleep.

When she woke, she headed to the supermarket, buying ingredients and side dishes — including beer — for a spicy chicken soup.

Her first battle had been won, and she was ready to have a small celebration at home.

Just as she was about to start cooking, there was a knock at the door.

Isabella froze. Who could be visiting at this hour?

She opened the door slowly — and froze again.

Alexander stood there, dressed in a snappy suit with a dark overcoat.

She blinked, confused. “Who… are you?”

Then her eyes fell on the child in his arms. Surprise and fear washed over her. This was the little boy from the storeroom… Why was he with a man who seemed so… formidable?

Panic prickled down her spine. “Did his family think I kidnapped him?” she thought anxiously, sweat forming at her temples.

Alexander broke the silence. “Hello. My sincere apologies for the unannounced visit. My son insisted on coming to see you; he’s been worried since that night in the storeroom.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “May we come in? It’s chilly out here.”

Coming out of her thoughts, Isabella quickly said, “O-oh… my bad. Please, come in.”

“Sit anywhere you like. Do you want something to drink? Green tea or milk?”

“Sure,” Alexander nodded.

Isabella brewed a cup of tea for him and poured milk for the little bun. The man and child seated themselves on her narrow living room sofa, their expressions unreadable.

Silent. Cramped. Awkward.

Isabella, sitting across from them, felt close to tears.

Then the pot gurgled. A rich, spicy aroma began filling the air.

Trying to break the tension, Isabella said casually, “So… have you had dinner? I was about to make spicy chicken soup. Would you like to eat together?”

Alexander: “Okay.”

Little bun nodded eagerly.

Isabella blinked. The… what?

She only asked out of courtesy — were they trying to mock her? One was probably a CEO, the other a young heir. And here they were, agreeing to eat a humble home-cooked meal with her.

“Won’t I get in trouble for feeding the young princes such ‘trash food’?” she thought, horrified.

Still, she had already invited them, so she could only bite the bullet. She set the table and added two more pairs of utensils.

“The soup base is quite spicy. Do you like spicy food?” she asked, worried.

“I don’t mind,” Alexander said.

Little bun nodded vigorously.

Isabella served the soup. Alexander barely touched it, but the little bun devoured it, sticking his tongue out at the heat yet refusing to stop.

“Is it bad for children to eat too much spice?” she asked, worried.

“He’s not that delicate,” Alexander replied silently, making her keep her opinion to herself.

The quiet, cool-headed man suddenly spoke. “How was the audition?”

Isabella froze. “How… did you know?”

Alexander smiled faintly. “It seems you don’t know who I am. Congratulations on your audition. We’ll be leaving now.”

“O-oh… already?” Isabella stammered.

“Hopefully we’ll meet again. Thank you for the meal — it was decent for a low-class household dish,” he added lightly, taking his child and leaving.

Isabella stood dumbfounded. Her eyebrows twitched. “How mean… shouldn’t have eaten it at all.”

Even after they left, the thought of who he really was and how powerful he seemed lingered in her mind. Shaking it off, she finally let herself rest, drifting to sleep with a spark of hope for the next day.