With each word, she tore her apart, leaving her in the dust. Her face contorted into the ugliest expression imaginable, fueled by burning rage. Yet, reason urged her to remain calm. "You don't need to be happy either. Nash hasn't publicly acknowledged you as Mrs. York, and besides, he's more inclined to support me," Miranda snapped, grabbing a fruit knife. Handing it over to Nina, she said, "Nina, why don't you teach me how to chop vegetables now?"

Nina frowned, glanced at Miranda, but did not respond.

She called for Mary, "Miss Miranda, I have no patience. Mary, you have patience. You teach Miss Miranda."

Miranda's face turned icy.

Nina would even acknowledge her or give her lessons! Her expected plan crumbled, and she lost interest. She casually dropped the knife onto the cutting board. "Forget it, just remembered I've got something else to do. I'll swing by another day to learn."

Mary was puzzled, finding Miss Miranda's irregular approach to learning truly peculiar!

Miranda saw the clothes she had brought for Nash lying on the sofa. Nina was sitting there, engrossed in her phone. Miranda's eyes flashed with a plan.

the moment she grabbed

"Bang!"

coffee table, scattering its

is my apology. Since you don't want to teach me, why did you

had not been long since this pop star crossed over into the entertainment industry, yet her acting skills were

an eyebrow, a cold glint in her eyes. Of

when I want to take the clothes, you push me

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