Goodbye, Mr. Regret

The mention of chicken noodle soup brought a wave of nostalgia-Timothy realized he hadn't tasted it in ages.

Ever since that family day event, Jessica hadn't cooked a single meal.

Of course, Henry hadn't had chicken noodle soup for quite a while either.

The last time he'd eaten it, Mabel had been the one to make it, and honestly, it had been pretty disappointing.

He couldn't help but miss his mother's cooking.

So he piped up, "Dad, can you call Mom and ask her to come back? I want chicken noodle soup for breakfast tomorrow."

Then he tilted his head toward Sheila and added, "Miss Sheila, my mom makes the best chicken noodle soup. When she comes back, I'll ask her to make extra so you can try some too. It's really good-everything she makes is delicious. You'll be lucky to have meals with me after she comes home."

Mabel felt her stomach churn at that.

Did the young master even realize what he was saying? Calling his mother home to cook for the mistress? And inviting the mistress to stay long-term?

hair, clearly amused. "Thank you for sharing

at the attention. Then he turned back to his father. "Dad, why haven't you called Mom yet? I

all the time, and when he was, he often found himself longing for Jessica's cooking. It was the taste of home, the kind that made him feel

had been prepared by Mabel. It looked all right-probably

left in a huff today. Do you

in confusion. "Why wouldn't she? If you

skipping chicken noodle soup for

He had no intention of

to remind her how good she'd had it here—a husband who brought home a hefty paycheck, a bright and adorable son, a sprawling house, maids at her beck and call. Seven years living in luxury, and she was starting to forget

she to defy

she

cooking. Henry loves the food at The Silverthread Eatery. Why not ask their chef to come cook for us? No

not been her intention at all—she'd wanted Timothy to call his wife home, not