Married a Secret Billionaire

Persephone awoke early the following morning, engaging in the kitchen despite her nearly non-existent culinary skills. The art of self-sufficiency had only become a part of her repertoire since her arrival.

Previously reluctant, she now enthusiastically approached the task, humming as she cooked.

With a tablet perched on the windowsill, she meticulously flipped through images, faithfully following the recipe steps. An instinctive smile graced her face throughout the cooking process.

Her motivation? Morpheus.

Each meal she prepared was an expression of her affection for him.

The fried egg bore the evidence of a slight mishap—she hadn’t mastered the intricacies of frying. The milk flirted with boiling over. Yet, imperfections aside, she believed that her kitchen prowess would blossom with continued effort.

After all, wasn’t it said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach?

Grinning like a fool, she panickedly turned off the gas as the pan sizzled.

A knock on the door interrupted her contemplation of the next steps.

She rushed to answer and found Seamus dumbfounded at the sight of her perspiring in her apron.

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your voice. Morpheus is still sleeping! And didn’t I instruct you not to

obediently. “Roger

must be fatigued from yesterday’s match and in no shape to serve her. As such, he had brought

burnt aroma assailed his senses. A quick survey of

to salvage a respectable meal. Fried eggs, toast with cheese, pancakes, and a bit

her musings, she murmured,

moment, grabbing her

blankly. “What are

“Sephy…”

observed disappointment, rage, and indescribable emotions in his

asked, “What’s

not to give it to her straight. Since

blisters on her once pretty arms from splattering