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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Persephone hushed him, gesturing. “Lower your voice. Morpheus is still sleeping! And didn’t I instruct you not to use

obediently.

Morpheus must be fatigued from yesterday’s match and in no shape

senses. A quick survey of the kitchen

she managed to salvage a respectable meal. Fried eggs, toast with cheese, pancakes, and a bit of salad

musings, she murmured,

seized the moment, grabbing

“What are you doing? You scared

“Sephy…”

and

asked, “What’s

straight. Since she was young, she had been his little

at her, he felt pain seeing the blisters on her once pretty arms