My phone started ringing almost immediately.My heart jumped.For a split second, I thought it was Venessa.But when I looked at the screen, I exhaled in relief.Dylan.I picked up quickly.“Good evening, chef Dylan.”“Good evening, ma—”I blinked.I blinked.Ma?The word landed awkwardly, like something borrowed that didn’t quite belong to me.“I called to inform you that dinner will be served in five minutes,” he continued, his tone polite and professional.“Oh… alright. Thank you, sir, but…” I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it without sounding rude.He paused, waiting.“Can you please not call me ‘ma’? It’s uncomfortable,” I said finally.There was a brief silence.“Sorry, ma, but we are just obeying orders,” he replied.I sighed quietly, knowing there was no point pushing further.“Okay… um, one more thing. Can you bring my food to my room?”Another pause. Slightly longer this time.Then—“Sorry, ma, but I’ll need the chairman’s approval for that,” he said. “If there’s nothing els
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